Skeletons
by bgharison
Summary: Shelburne isn't the only skeleton in Joe White's closet: he's been hiding another family secret for twenty years. Just who is Riley, and why was Steve never supposed to find her? A slightly sci-fi flavored ohana story, heavy on a protective Steve. Steve/Catherine, Danny/OC pairings. Appearances from Joe and Doris.
1. Chapter 1

**Canon through Steve's rescue from North Korea, where this story picks up.**

 **Lori doesn't exist; Malia is an ER Doctor.**

 **Danny** : Hey, hey. It's Jenna. Get a trace up right now. Hey Jenna, it's Danny. Where are you?

 **Jenna** : Danny, I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm so sorry.

 **Danny** : It's okay, it's okay. Just tell me, where's Steve?

 **Jenna** : It's WoFat. It's WoFat, Danny. He has him, and I led Steve right to him.

 **Danny** : Is he alive?

 **Jenna:** We're south of Kaesong. A town called…

 **Danny** : A town called what? You broke up. Say again. Jenna, I can't hear you. Where's Steve?

* * *

 _North Korea_

"I've got him! I've got Steve!" Danny yelled to the others, relief flooding through him.

Joe rushed to help as Danny pulled a disoriented Steve from the back of the truck.

"Guys, I've got another prisoner here," Chin called. "Young woman. She's unconscious."

"Steve, was there another prisoner held with you? A girl?" Danny asked.

"What? No . . . I don't know . . . where's WoFat?" Steve asked.

Chin came around the side of the truck, a young woman cradled in his arms.

"No, oh no, no," Steve muttered. Danny followed his gaze. Her shirt had ridden up in Chin's grip, and they could clearly see bruising surrounding the same distinctive burn marks that marred Steve's torso.

Gutches shouldered his weapon and took the pack Chin was carrying. "You got her, Kelly? We need to hump it out of here. I don't see any option but to bring her out with us, sort this out when we get home."

Danny started to walk with Steve, and stumbled as Joe remained rooted and motionless, staring at the young woman.

"Joe, let's move!"

Danny couldn't help but notice how Joe kept casting worried glances at the young woman, and then at Steve. He almost seemed . . . reluctant to get Steve back to the helicopter. That made no sense, but then few things with Joe ever did.

As Frank saw the group coming through the tree line he broke into a wide smile and started up the rotors.

"Frank," Kono gestured, "looks like they found an extra."

Frank chuckled, "Well, when you storm the castle . . ." He broke off, his face turning to stone. "Son of a bitch," he muttered angrily, jumping out of the pilot's seat. Frank moved across the clearing with a speed and strength that belied his appearance, covering the distance between himself and Joe in seconds.

Joe was not prepared for the vicious right hook that caught him square on the chin, and Danny once again barely kept himself and Steve on their feet. To his surprise, Joe did not offer any defense.

Frank did not spare another glance to Joe, but drew up short in front of Chin and gently brushed the young woman's hair out of her face.

"How badly is she hurt?" he asked Chin.

"She's unconscious but breathing," Chin replied, "and her pulse seems steady."

Gutches broke in. "I don't know what the hell is going on but we need to move NOW and sort this out later."

"Frank," Joe started.

"No. Get in the chopper. Don't touch her."

The group struggled the rest of the distance across the clearing and into the helicopter. Chin and Danny traded glances at the heated exchange, but had their hands full with their charges.

They settled Steve onto the floor of the helicopter, and Chin gently laid the young woman down. Steve reached out to help him, wincing as the movement aggravated his battered ribs, but unwilling to let her head rest on the hard floor. Still disoriented, Steve looked to Danny for answers.

"Did you come after her, too, Danno? Did Jenna . . . I don't understand. Who is she?"

Danny shook his head. "No idea, Steve. No, Jenna didn't mention her."

Steve frowned at Joe, who was clenching his fists and avoiding eye contact.

"Joe? What's going on?"

Before Joe could offer an explanation, Steve was distracted by a soft moan, as the young woman struggled to open her eyes and sit up.

"Shhh, it's okay,"Chin soothed. "You're safe, we've got you."

She opened her eyes and looked up at Steve. He had a vague flash of recognition, but before he could wonder, she looked at Joe.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

Joe sighed and shook his head. "I didn't, kid. Sorry."

"You weren't . . . you weren't even looking for me?" she asked, disbelief and betrayal evident in her face and tone.

She struggled to sit up, refusing Chin's and Steve's efforts to keep her settled. Joe reached out a tentative hand to her, but she turned away from him and leaned against Chin instead. Steve frowned at her reaction and looked at Joe, who just shook his head.

Danny rubbed his hand over his face, and shrugged at Steve's questioning look. What did he expect? There were always more questions than answers with Joe.

* * *

The moment the helicopter was safely on the ground, Frank bolted from his seat and came around to the open doorway, reaching for the young woman. She willingly let him scoop her into his arms, his hand pressing her head onto his shoulder as he gently smoothed her hair.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I had no idea. If I had known, Tangerine and I would have blown the place to smithereens and pulled you out of there," he said.

"S'okay, Frank, you and Tangerine still saved the day. Put me down, now, you big lug. I'm okay," she said, kissing Frank fondly on the cheek. "Am I staying with you now?"

"No, baby girl, it's not safe for you here now. Go on back with this team." Frank hugged her again, gently, and then nodded at Chin and Kono. "Take good care of her, will you? Kono, keep these assholes in line, yeah?" Kono smiled at Frank as she helped the young woman toward the waiting transport plane.

Danny helped Steve out of the helicopter. "Come on, Super SEAL, this was not just another day at the office, okay? Would you take it easy?" He grumbled good-naturedly as he continued to fuss over Steve.

"We need to get them to a hospital," Danny protested as everyone moved toward the plane.

"Too risky," Joe stated, in the commanding manner that Danny had come to know and hate.

"I have to agree," Commander Gutches said. "WoFat no doubt has eyes and ears in every civilian hospital in this area, and a military hospital would create its own set of problems. We'll patch them up as best as we can on the transport. We've got plenty of . . . humanitarian supplies."

Frank rounded on Joe. "You owe answers, Joe, and you know it. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

Steve drew himself to his full height, despite the ache in his ribs.

"I agree. What the hell is going on, Joe? Who is she, and why did WoFat have her?"

Joe ignored Steve and addressed Chin and Danny.

"Come on, let's get everyone loaded up."

Steve started to argue, but Frank put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Kid, it's a long story and you deserve all of it, but it's about to get really interesting around here if you all don't get a move-on back to the DMZ. Take good care of your sister, you hear me?"

Steve looked at Frank in confusion. "Mary? Mary's okay, right?" Steve turned to Danny in panic.

"Yeah, babe, she's fine," Danny assured him, "Come on, let's get going before we attract too much attention."

* * *

"Ow," Steve protested, batting Gutches hand away. They were safely in the air over South Korean airspace.

Steve moved stiffly toward Chin and Kono, who were gently cleaning and dressing the young woman's cuts and bruises. Joe remained aloof, his jaw darkening in a bruise from Frank's punch.

Steve crouched in front of the young woman and extended a bruised hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently touching the line of steri-strips Kono had placed over a cut just over her eyebrow.

She smiled wryly, as she reached out and touched a similar set of bandages over his eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm okay. How do you know Joe?"

Steve blinked in surprise. "How do YOU know Joe?"

She bit her lip nervously and glanced at Joe. She was clearly reluctant to answer; she seemed almost afraid of Joe, and it didn't sit well with Steve.

"Hey, hey," Steve said softly, "It's okay. I'll deal with him later, yeah? Okay. Why were you at that compound? Can you tell me what happened? Did someone ask you questions?"

She hesitated.

"Okay, let's start with some easier questions," Steve said, his voice gentle. He sensed that he was about to spook her. "My name is Steve McGarrett. I'm a Commander in the US Navy and the head of a task force in Hawaii. My team is called Five-O. Has Joe ever mentioned us to you?"

She shook her head slowly.

"No? That's alright, I'll introduce you. This is Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua, and over there is Danny Williams. They're members of my team. Those two yahoos are SEALs, on, um . . . vacation, apparently."

She relaxed a little, and smiled at Steve. Kono handed her a water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, and she seemed to relax further as Kono sat down next to her. Not for the first time, Steve was reminded of how lucky he was to have Kono in Five-O. Among her many invaluable skills, she had an amazing presence – comforting or terrifying, whichever was needed.

"What is your name? Do you know why you were at the compound?"

"Riley. Riley Patterson. And I have no idea why I was there. Some men grabbed me after work . . . I think someone drugged me, but I know I was on a ship at some point. And then I woke up, in that place, and this man wanted to know about Shelburne."

Steve's head snapped up.

"Shelburne?" he asked, his pulse quickening. "What do you know about Shelburne?"

Riley tensed, and Kono shot him a warning glance.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured, reaching out to gently stroke her hair. "I'm sorry. I know that must have been terrifying. Look, I promise, you can trust me and my team. We are going to keep you safe. But I need to know . . . I desperately need to know . . . do you know anything about Shelburne? I swear to you, if you do, you can tell me, and whatever it is, I'll protect you."

Riley shook her head. "I don't, I swear. I don't understand. I thought maybe you did. I heard him . . . I heard him asking you the same questions. When you got there they left me alone –" she broke off, clamping her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?" Steve asked, "What, you're sorry that they left you and came to me?"

Riley nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"No, no," Steve assured her. "No, don't be sorry. I'm not. I'm so glad that they left you alone and didn't hurt you any more than they already had. Look, I'm okay, I walked away. My team got to us, okay? We're safe now. You're safe now. Don't be sorry."

Chin had rummaged through one of the boxes and produced some light blankets. He offered one to Riley and she accepted it gratefully, and he handed another to Kono.

Steve realized that Riley had been at the compound even longer than him, and although she didn't seem to be as severely injured, he knew that she had at least some bruised ribs and had encountered the business end of that damned cattle prod at least once. He tamped down on his anger for the moment, and focused on what needed to happen here and now.

"You need to get some rest, okay? We'll sort through all this when we land. Just . . . can you just tell me, how do you know Joe – and the pilot, Frank, you know him too?

Riley glanced at Joe again, who was still refusing to look in their direction.

"I'm really not supposed to say, but I don't know any way around it," she said. "Joe is a U.S. Marshall. He's my case worker. I'm in WITSEC. I would worry about getting kicked out of the program for telling you, but I'm pretty sure I have bigger problems at the moment. Frank is . . . well, sort of like the cool uncle but it's a long story."

Steve chuckled. He admired her spirit and her sarcastic take on the situation. "Yeah, I would agree. Well, you're in Five-O protection now, Riley. Rest, it's a long flight."

Chin handed Steve a couple of blankets. "I think you need to take your own advice, brah. You look like a train-wreck."

"Good to see you too, Chin," Steve smiled tiredly at his friend, "And Chin – thanks."

"Always, brah. Ohana, right?"

Steve made his way back to Danny, pausing to glower down at Joe.

"Look me in the eye, Joe. I'm going to say this once now, and then I'm going to deal with you when we land. I don't know how or why you've convinced that young woman that you're acting as her WITSEC case worker, but you are going to give me some straight answers and then I am taking over and getting her sorted out. Because whatever the hell you were trying to do clearly didn't work, and it damn well could have cost her life."

Joe turned a steely gaze on Steve. "Are you sure it's my fault, son? Weren't you warned, that if you kept digging into your family secrets, you might not like what you find? Have you considered that maybe it's your meddling that caused this?"

Steve clenched his fists and took a menacing step toward Joe, but Danny, sensing the impending explosion between the two men, placed himself bodily between them.

"Down, boy," he said, pushing a hand against Steve's chest. Steve cringed and gasped. The adrenaline was wearing off and the hurt was setting in.

Danny moved his hand to wrap gently around Steve's bicep instead. "Sorry, babe," he murmured, "But look, maybe now is not the time and place for you to beat the truth out of Joe. I mean, there will be a time, and there is definitely a place, and I intend to be there, believe me. But right now, let's get you and – Riley? – Riley home, and fixed up, and rested, okay?"

Steve reluctantly backed away and let Danny help him get settled in the supremely uncomfortable seats. Content that whatever Joe's intentions were, his team would keep Riley safe and comfortable, he let himself doze.

* * *

The first hours back on the island were a blur. The SEAL team nine members quietly changed back into their civilian clothes and sauntered back onto base after their "vacation".

Kono, Chin, and Danny had their hands full trying to convince Steve and Riley to go to the hospital.

"I'm fine," Steve insisted, as he swayed on his feet.

"Me, too," Riley echoed, stumbling against Kono.

"Neither of you are fine," Danny ranted, turning a new shade of red. "Look at you, the both of you. You're dead on your feet and barely upright. You are – at the very least – dehydrated, exhausted, and concussed, with a side of bruised or broken ribs."

"Just bruised," Steve argued.

Riley paused. "Okay, one of mine might be broken." At that, Chin and Kono started to gently move her toward Kono's car.

"Insist all you want, Steve, but I have a feeling that if you don't go, she won't go . . . and even you aren't so stubborn as to interfere with getting her the care she needs, right?" Danny decided to use Steve's hardwired protectiveness of others against him . . . whatever, if it would get him to an ER he would resort to his best parenting tricks. "Besides," he continued, quietly, so that only Steve could hear, "if she was there longer than you, even . . . "

Steve looked at Danny, stricken. "Shit, Danny . . . if those animals . . . "

"Hey, hey," Danny soothed, "look, she seems pretty much okay, but it's SOP in police procedure, I would assume it's the same in . . .whatever the hell procedure it is that crazy ninja SEALs follow, too, if there is such a thing."

Steve nodded tersely. "Yeah, okay, let's go. Where's Joe?"

Danny and Steve looked around.

"Chin, Kono," Danny called out. "Where's Joe?"

Chin pointed to a Jeep at the far end of the runway. "Gone with the wind. I don't think he wants to answer your questions any time soon."

Steve tensed as if to start running, and Danny smacked him gently on the head.

"Idiot, what are you going to do, catch him on foot and beat answers out of him? Look at you, you're barely putting one foot in front of the other."

"But, Danny –"

"No, Steven. Enough. I don't think you're going to get any real answers out of him, anyway. Maybe your girlfriend will be able to help."

"She's not my girlfriend," Steve responded, automatically. "But yeah, let's call her."

"Way ahead of you, babe. She couldn't get here in time to join our merry band, but she will be arriving at Casa de McGarrett early tomorrow morning."

Steve grinned. "You called her?"

"I called her, you Neanderthal, of course I called her. I called your not-girlfriend so that she would know that her not-boyfriend was in peril of death by stupidity. She had some leave owed to her, she'll be able to stay here for about a week."

"I love you, Danno. I don't tell you that enough," Steve slurred his words just a bit.

"Okay, that's a concussion talking, but I'll take it. Now, for the love of God, get in the car and let's follow Chin and Kono to the hospital, okay?"

Steve nodded tiredly. "Yeah, we definitely need to have Riley checked out. Danny, do you think it's shock or . . . did you notice that she's holding it together remarkably well for a civilian?"

"Now that you mention it," Danny responded, rubbing his eyes, "yes, she is entirely too composed. And she knows Joe. Everything about this situation is wrong, Steve. Everything."

* * *

Malia was waiting for the group when they arrived at the ER.

"We need to just reserve a suite for Five-O," she said, hugging them each in turn.

"Brought a guest this time," Chin said, "Malia, this is Riley Patterson."

"Riley, come with me, let's get you taken care of."

Steve nodded at Kono. "Stay with her. No one aside from Five-O and Malia has access, you got that?"

"On it boss," Kono nodded back and ushered Riley in to the treatment room indicated by Malia.

Malia looked sternly at Steve. "You – go in that treatment room and do not leave until I've looked at your chart, got it? I'll send someone in to patch you up. Anything broken? Need stitches?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm a little beat up but it's nothing Motrin and steri-strips won't fix, Malia."

"I'm sending a doctor in and we'll let him be the judge of that," she retorted. Looking at Danny, she added, "Keep him where he belongs, Danny, make sure he gets checked out."

"I will, Malia, and I'll get the doctor to check the concussion that I know he has that he conveniently didn't mention while I'm at it," Danny smirked.

* * *

Kono eased Riley onto the gurney. "Whoa, there, sistah," she said, as Riley came dangerously close to face-planting off the side.

"Sorry . . . I'm a little woozy," Riley shook her head, and then paled as the movement caused a wave of nausea to wash over her.

Malia entered the room and closed the door gently behind her. "Hi, Kono. Riley? Is it? I'm Dr. Waincroft, but please, call me Malia. Where are you injured?"

Riley winced. "Bruised ribs, I think one might be cracked. I have a couple of electrical burns."

Malia gestured toward Riley's shirt. "Can you lift that up? Is that okay? We won't do anything without telling you."

Riley struggled a bit to pull her shirt up from her ribs.

"She also got dizzy and queasy," Kono added to Malia, as she gently helped Riley move to show Malia the injuries. "She doesn't remember how she got this cut over her eye, it could have been from a hit."

Malia ran expert hands gently over Riley's head and neck. "There's a nasty bump on the back of your head, too, Riley," she explained. "I'd say consistent with a strike from a handgun, which unfortunately I've seen plenty in dealing with Five-O." She flashed a small penlight in Riley's eyes. "But, based on your pupils, I would say it's a mild concussion. You must let us know if you feel worse, or if your headache or dizziness gets worse instead of better, okay? And we'll continue concussion checks for at least twelve hours."

She turned and pulled a set of scrubs out of the cabinet. "Okay, Riley, let's get you changed into some clean scrubs, and we're going to get some x-rays of those ribs, and treat these burns." Gently, she added, "Do we need to run an assault kit, sweetheart? "

Riley shook her head. "No."

Malia held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "If you remember anything or decide at any point that we need to do that, you let me know, okay? Kono and I will be with you the entire time. Riley, I imagine that your medical reports will be requested as evidence. Is it okay if your information is shared with the team?" Malia asked.

Riley shrugged. "Sure. You realize though that I have no idea what's going on. I don't think I'm being very helpful."

"I don't think you need to worry a bit about that," Malia assured her. "Why don't you rest a bit and I'll go check on Commander McGarrett; make sure he hasn't fled the scene."

* * *

Malia found Chin sitting outside Steve's treatment room, typing furiously on a laptop.

"Hello, stranger," she said, dropping an affectionate kiss to his forehead. "I'm not even going to ask what is going on, because you probably can't tell me."

"Can't tell you, because I have no idea," he replied. "When we went to get Steve, we found her. Things were going sideways so we decided to get her to safety first and ask questions later. I'm not sure Steve is ready to know the answers."

"Well, he will settle for nothing less than the truth," Malia commented.

Chin sighed. "True. I'm afraid of where this rabbit hole will lead though. It involves Joe, and secrets, and WoFat – a dangerous combination."

"I'm so glad you're home safely; all of you. And more or less in one piece, I hope? Has the doctor been in to see Steve?"

"Yep, left a little bit ago. I'm not sure if he convinced Steve to take any pain meds."

Malia knocked gently on the door, and peeked inside. Danny gave her a tired smile and waved her in.

"Super SEAL is dozing," he said quietly.

Malia smiled and picked up Steve's chart, flipping through it quickly. Two broken ribs, hairline fracture of the cheekbone, concussion, dehydration, multiple electrical burns. She searched through the chart for his ECG and nodded in relief that it was almost perfectly normal. She frowned at the severe abrasions on his wrists which had not yet been bandaged, and she reached for supplies to clean and dress them as she talked.

"Did he take any pain medication?" she asked Danny.

He scoffed. "Of course not. He's just completely exhausted. You'll send some home with him though, yeah? I'll make sure he takes them. Until he feels like Riley is safe, he's going to resist anything that impairs his reaction time and judgment . . . as if being put through the wringer hasn't done that."

Steve stirred at the sound of Danny's voice and struggled to wake completely.

"D'no?" he rasped.

"Hey, soldier," Danny said, reaching for some ice chips.

"Sailor," Steve mumbled, automatically correcting him. "Riley?"

Malia put a soothing hand on Steve's arm. "She's okay, Steve."

"How bad?" he asked, his eyes troubled.

"Actually, she's in better shape than you. I have her permission to share her information, since I assume you'll be requesting her file as evidence?"

"Damn straight," Steve said, more firmly.

"She has a mild concussion, two fractured ribs, and she's severely dehydrated. My guess is that she went days without food, and probably very little water. Her physical injuries are actually secondary to the dehydration, but we have her on IV fluids. She does have two circular electrical burns, similar to the multiple burns you have. But, like you, her ECG is normal, so it didn't cause any significant heart damage." Malia hesitated. "Steve . . . what caused those burns?"

"Cattle prod," he sighed. He hated that Malia had to know these things; he was sure it weighed heavily on her when Chin went into the field, knowing what horrors they could face.

Malia brushed a gentle hand through his hair. "Steve, I'm sorry. I'm glad you're back safely."

Danny cleared his throat. "Did, uhm, was there an assault kit?"

"No; Riley insisted there was no need for one," Malia replied.

"You believe her? " Steve asked.

Malia nodded. "She didn't seem hesitant. And no other physical injuries indicated that she was sexually assaulted. She does have abrasions around her wrists and ankles. She was bound, but she must not have struggled too much."

Steve and Danny both sighed in relief. "Yeah, she said that she thought she was drugged," Steve added. "Concussion . . . I didn't see any bruising to her face."

"No," Malia said, "but there's a decent lump on the back of her head. I'd say consistent with taking a blow to the back of the head, likely with the barrel of a handgun."

Steve nodded. "That's consistent. The little she's been able to say was that she was grabbed after work, thought maybe she was drugged, and thought she was on a ship."

"From a medical exam, that would explain the severe dehydration, and the relatively minor abrasions from where she was restrained. If she was drugged, she wouldn't have been as likely to struggle," Malia agreed. "I sent a second set of bloodwork over to HQ so that Max could run a tox screen from his lab."

Steve fell silent. Danny could see the wheels turning in his head.

"Malia," Steve said, "what's your take on her emotional response? She seems entirely too collected for a civilian. Do you think she's still under the influence of sedatives, or is it shock, or . . . "

"Oh, no. No way, partner, you're not going to try to crack this case tonight. Chin is already trying to find Joe, and find out about Riley. Your only mission tonight is to rest, preferably right here in this hospital bed," Danny lectured.

Malia nodded. "She is remarkably calm, and you're right, Steve, it's likely sedatives and shock. We may know more when the tox screen comes back. I would watch for the shock to wear off, though, and the impact of what she's been through will likely settle in over the next thirty-six hours. And Danny is also right – you both should spend at least one night here."

"Absolutely not," Steve insisted. "Look, Danny, I walked in to WoFat's trap with eyes wide open; someone came and took Riley. He has people everywhere. An orderly, a nurse . . . he could have a person here already for all we know."

Steve began to struggle to sit up, reaching for the IV in his arm.

"Whoa, what do you think you're doing?!" Danny pushed him back down on the bed. "You're dehydrated, you goof. Leave that alone."

"Danny - " Steve protested.

"Look, Malia, can we bring Riley in here? Would you settle for that, Steve? We'll have everyone in one place, is that a more . . . how would you put it . . . "

"Defensible position," Steve offered.

"Yeah, that."

Malia nodded. "Her IV can roll with her. Kono and I will bring her to you, okay? And I'm giving you a shot for the pain, no arguing." She went to a cabinet and pulled out clean scrub top. She'd learned long ago not to insult the Five-O team members with hospital gowns, but they would begrudgingly accept scrubs when their clothes had been ruined in yet another incident. "Danny, help Steve get into this. I don't want my patient upset by the severity of Steve's injuries. You know gentlemen, we've discussed that there will be an emotional and psychological fall-out from this."

"I'll make sure Riley's squared away, Malia," Steve answered.

Malia raised her eyebrows at Danny.

He shook his head. "I'll make sure both of them get whatever they need, doc," he said, reaching for the scrub top.

As Malia left, Danny started unhooking Steve's IV bag from the pole.

"Okay, Danny, yeah, let's grab that. Where's my gun and badge, do you have them?"

"What, you Neanderthal? Sit back before you take a header off that bed. I'm following Malia's orders and getting you dressed, you shirtless wonder, before Riley comes in here and sees you looking like a black and blue pincushion. Have to drop the IV bag through the arm of the shirt. You're not going anywhere."

Steve watched, impressed as Danny expertly threaded the IV apparatus through the scrub shirt and pushed it over his head.

"What? You think I haven't done this a thousand times, what with your propensity for getting shot? How do you think you always leave the hospital in scrubs? Do you think any of those poor nurses you terrorize would try to dress you? No, my friend, that falls to me. I could do this in my sleep. Obviously, you take my skills for granted if this is the first time you've noticed this."

Steve smiled. This whole situation was a clusterfuck, to be sure, but Danny ranting was familiar, and good, and it was home.

* * *

As Malia left Steve's room, she found Chin and Duke posted outside the door.

Chin smiled at her. "Kono, Danny, and I aren't at the top of our game. I made an executive decision to call for a little back-up. You'll find Grover outside Riley's door. Don't be offended if he scrutinizes you. That last Mission Impossible movie, with those masks, has him remarkably paranoid. Which, I suppose, is not a bad thing."

Malia laughed. "Duly noted. I'm going to bring Riley down here."

"Ah, Steve won't rest until he can keep eyes on her, keep her safe all by himself?"

"Something like that. If it will keep him still for a little longer, I'll settle for it."

"How long will they need to stay?" Duke asked. "I can arrange more shifts."

"Well, they should stay overnight," said Malia, "but I seriously doubt that we will be able to convince them."

Riley protested the use of the wheelchair, claiming that walking was easier on her ribs than sitting in the uncomfortable seat.

"Honestly," Malia chuckled, "are you sure you've only known Five-O for a day? Because you, young lady, are remarkably similar to them in your stubborn refusal of hospital policy."

Kono and Riley smiled at Malia as they walked toward Steve's treatment room; Riley moving stiffly and thankful for Kono's steadying hands.

An aide had prepared a second bed for Riley, and she gingerly eased herself onto the edge, and did not protest when Malia helped her swing her legs up. Although she was a few scant inches shorter than Kono, it was still awkward with her cracked and bruised ribs.

"Hey," Steve smiled at her groggily once she was settled.

"Hey," Riley responded, smiling back. Despite her confusion about the whole situation, there was something solid and trustworthy about Steve. His team had been willing to go into North Korea on that decrepit helicopter to find him, after all. "They must have given you the good drugs," she added.

"And you're due for a dose yourself, young lady," Malia chimed in.

Riley started to protest, but a quick mental inventory told her that now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she _hurt_. Really, really hurt. She had been taught to always maintain control but exhaustion and pain had weakened her defenses.

Danny recognized the warring emotions as they flickered across Riley's face. He'd seen these exact expressions on his partner dozens of times as he struggled to suppress his desperate need for pain relief with his pathological need for control.

"Hey, kiddo," he said gently, "it's okay. Let Malia give you something for the pain. Cracked ribs are a bitch. We're watching your back, okay? And don't let the goofy smile fool you – if something happens, the SuperSEAL there will take out the threat with his IV pole if for some reason we miss."

"Thanks," she said, her voice sounding a little shaky.

Steve nodded in satisfaction as the drugs quickly took effect and Riley drifted off to sleep.

"How quickly can we get out of here, Malia?" he asked.

"Well, if I can't convince you to stay for at least twelve hours of observation," she said, "I guess technically as soon as you both finish your IV antibiotics – another hour or so. Your Demerol will wear off much more quickly than Riley's though – you had yours earlier, and I know how quickly you metabolize pain medication. She will be very groggy for several hours. It's fine for her to be moved, but she's likely to wake up very disoriented."

Steve sighed. "I think that's likely to be the case regardless, Malia. Danny, you think that you and Chin and Kono are up to moving this operation to my house?"

"Already a step ahead of you, partner. Chin has Duke and Grover here, because honestly, we're exhausted, buddy. But there's nowhere else we're going to be. Just relax for a bit, would you? Let the good shot take the edge off, get some rest, okay?" Danny smiled fondly at Steve, his eyes tired.

"Danny, we need to find Joe . . . he knows something . . ." Steve fought to hang on to what seemed like a very important thought. There was something he needed to tell Danny. Something about Joe. And Frank. And Riley. And his sister . . .

"Danny!"

"Yeah, partner?"

"Mary . . . the pilot – Frank? – yeah, Frank . . . he knows Mary, said to take care of her. How does he know Mary?" Steve frowned. "You're sure she's okay? Did you check on her?"

"Shh, buddy," Danny hushed him, "Mary is fine; Chin called her as soon as we landed. I don't know about all the rest. We'll sort it all out, okay? Just – Steve, you've been through hell. I know you want answers, but babe, you have got to rest just for a bit, okay? We will get it all sorted, I swear to you."

* * *

" _It wasn't for nothing . . . "_

Steve's hoarse shout roused Danny instantly. On his feet in a split second, he put a steadying hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, partner, it's okay. We've got you. You're safe."

"Danny," Steve rasped.

"Yeah, buddy, right here," Danny replied, grabbing the cup of ice chips and spooning some into Steve's mouth. Across the room, Kono and Chin stood and stretched as well. Duke and Grover had insisted that Chin join Danny and Kono inside the room and that they all try to rest while they remained posted outside the door. They had quickly consumed the sandwiches that Malia brought for them, and then dropped off into an exhausted sleep.

"Danny, Jenna . . . "

"Shh, we know, Steve, remember? She called us. We found her when we were looking for you."

Steve's heart was still racing, his breathing too fast and shallow. Danny gently cupped Steve's bruised face in his hand. "Look at me, Steven. You're safe. Jenna called us and because of that we were able to find you. There was nothing you could have done to save her, Steve."

Steve struggled to sit up, wincing as the movement aggravated his battered and burned torso. Danny quickly found the button to raise the head of the bed.

"Joe? Have you found anything, Chin?" Steve asked, trying to rid himself of the brain-fuzzing effects of the pain medicine rapidly leaving his system.

"Nothing, Steve. He's vanished. Maybe Catherine will have better luck."

Steve began pulling at the IV still in the back of his hand.

"Okay, let's get out of here, then. Get back to HQ and start putting this together. Starting with Joe and his relationship with Riley – full background, everything we can find. She might be the key to tracking down WoFat."

"I understand, Steve," Chin replied, "but she is also a young woman who has been kidnapped, then beaten and electrocuted for information."

Steve paused. "Yeah, Chin, of course. It's just . . . if WoFat was asking her about Shelburne, he must have had some reason. There must be some connection."

Riley flinched and whimpered at Steve's mention of the name Shelburne. Kono gently brushed her hair away from her face and murmured gently to her. "You're safe, it's okay."

Malia entered the room. "The readings on your heart monitor spiked, Steve. Everything okay?"

Steve nodded and took a shuddering breath. "Yeah, just a little turbulence on re-entry. I'm okay. Ready to get out of here." He nodded his head toward Riley. "Can she be moved yet?"

Malia batted his hand away from his IV and expertly removed it, then moved over to Riley's bed.

"Her IV is finished. I don't feel great about you two leaving, but if I can ensure that you'll follow my discharge orders, then I'll sign off. I understand security is a factor." Malia gently removed Riley's IV. "If you are going to move her, I would suggest doing so while she's still nicely sedated – a car ride will be uncomfortable with these ribs. Of course, the same is true for you, Steve."

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He had already compartmentalized the pain and exhaustion, as well as the trauma of witnessing Jenna's death, and was turning his laser focus onto finding answers.

* * *

Moving the team to Steve's house took no small amount of logistical expertise, but they were finally at the front door.

Steve was leaning more heavily on Danny than he wanted to admit, but still arguing. "I still don't see why we couldn't go to HQ, Danno," he complained.

"You big goof, you can hardly stand on your own two feet," Danny retorted as he turned the key in the lock. "You need a shower, and you're going to need comfy clothes. Besides," he continued, as they moved through the door, "Riley is still zonked out of her gourd, and it's going to be hard enough for her to wake up here, much less in a law enforcement facility."

Steve sighed. He really didn't mean to disregard Riley. Despite her injuries, nothing about her registered with him as a victim . . . she was remarkably composed on the plane home. He couldn't help but focus on what she potentially could reveal about WoFat. Still, Danny made an excellent point.

"You're right, Danno," he said, limping to the stairs.

"Wow, this indeed a red-letter day. I'm gonna write that down," Danny quipped. "Don't fall over in the shower, SuperSEAL. I didn't fly all the way to North Korea to have to come haul your skinny ass up off your bathroom floor."

Steve flipped Danny off over his shoulder, and Danny chuckled and headed back out the front door to help the cousins as they gently moved Riley from the back seat of Grover's huge SUV. Grover gently moved them aside.

"You two are dead on your feet. Let me." With that, he scooped Riley up in his arms, Chin shutting the door behind him, and Kono holding the front door open. Danny had moved ahead into the guest room and turned on a small lamp.

"I'm thinking she'd be most comfortable here," Danny said, "and we can listen out for her even if we're sitting at the table. I give it ten minutes before Steve has this dining room set up as a command center."

"Fifteen," Steve said, coming down the stairs. He was moving determinedly, if a bit stiffly. "First, we need coffee."

* * *

Within the hour, Steve had thrown his phone down on the table in disgust.

"Nothing," he growled, "not a record of him flying out, and he's damn sure not taking my calls."

"What did you expect, Steve? He's never been the most forthcoming with answers, and now you've caught him in a blatant lie," Danny answered.

Chin came in from the kitchen, ending a phone call. "I've got absolutely nothing. At this point, Riley is our only lead on this whole mess. She thinks Joe is in WITSEC? So, she must assume she's in WITSEC. But, there's no record of it. I got the Albuquerque office to run a complete check – there's no record under that name, and certainly nothing of Joe White."

Steve was pacing around the dining room, becoming more agitated by the moment. The table was still littered with maps of North Korea, with Chin's laptop and Danny's legal pad adding to the layers. At this point, every question led to a new question. Kono was watching over Riley, so that she wouldn't wake up alone.

"Steve, you should at least sit down," Danny complained, "wearing a hole in the floor and wearing yourself out even further isn't going to help. You're making me dizzy, babe."

"Danny, I can't relax until we get some answers. I have no idea if Riley is still in danger, we don't know where WoFat is going to turn up, and Joe is in the wind. Hell, for all we know, Riley is Shelburne . . . " Steve's voice was rising, along with his frustration.

"No!"

The pained cry came from the guest room, and Steve moved quickly down the hall as Danny and Chin stood to follow him. Steve pulled up short at the doorway and gestured for Danny and Chin to stay back.

"No, please . . . I don't know what Shelburne means . . ." Riley was struggling against Kono, who was trying to calm her.

"Shh, it's okay, Riley, you're safe now," Kono murmured.

"No . . . stop . . . they're killing him . . . "

Steve sucked in a sharp, pained breath. It wasn't her own pain she was remembering, but his. For a moment, he was back in that dank room, hanging helplessly . . .

"Boss?" Kono's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, moving toward Riley, his big hands gently grabbing her shoulders. Kono stepped back as he brushed the sandy brown hair back from Riley's face. "Hey, Riley, it's okay. You're safe here."

She struggled to open her eyes, fighting off the lingering effects of the pain medication still in her system. "That's it," Steve encouraged, "wake up, Riley, it's okay. We've got you."

Her hazel eyes locked onto his, and he once again had a flash of something familiar that he couldn't quite place. Fear and confusion flickered across her face, but she held his gaze steadily and he could see her gathering the strength to control her emotions.

She took a shuddering breath, but when she spoke it was with quiet determination. "Okay. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Steve couldn't help but grin as Kono shook her head in disbelief.

"Riley," Steve replied, "your guess is as good as mine. I'm hoping you can help me figure it out."

"Okay. But first, I'm gonna need a shower. And then coffee."

Steve studiously avoided the smirk on Danny's face when Kono retrieved extra clothes for Riley from a drawer in the guestroom.

"Convenient," Danny commented, "that your not-girlfriend keeps plenty of extra clothes here . . . "

"In the guestroom, Danny," Steve deadpanned.

* * *

Riley emerged from the shower looking pale but determined. She padded into the kitchen to find the rest of the team pouring fresh coffee.

"Hey, Riley," Chin greeted her warmly, "up for some coffee?"

"Yes, please," she answered.

"I'm making toast for the both of you," Danny announced. "No arguing. You have to get something in you, and I don't want it coming right back up. We'll start with toast."

To his surprise, neither Steve nor Riley put up an argument. Sometimes he wondered if his parenting skills were as – if not more – important as his detective skills in his position in Five-O.

"Riley, I know you have to be exhausted, and in pain, and I'm sorry. But if you'd be up to answering some questions, trying to help us fill in the gaps, we would sure appreciate it. I have no idea of how to assess how much you're at risk, how much you're exposed to WoFat, while I'm completely in the dark." Steve gestured to his comfortable living room. "Here, let's at least find you a comfortable place to sit."

Kono fetched a soft throw from the guest room and handed it to Riley as she gingerly eased her aching ribs into a corner of the sofa, pulling her feet up under her.

Steve perched on the coffee table just in front of Riley.

"Okay, let's start with your connection to Joe White. What can you tell me about how you know him?" Steve began.

Riley took a sip of her coffee and then a deep breath. "I was in the foster care system; well, with an American foster parent but overseas. Japan mostly. When I was about sixteen, Joe White – well, he told me his name was Agent Pierce but then Frank called him Joe or Commander White or, well, other names . . . – anyway, Joe White showed up when I was about sixteen. I was home alone, waiting for my foster mom to come home. She was late. Days late, actually, I had been alone for several days. Agent Pier – Joe White came to the door, showed credentials, and said that she was . . . detained. She'd had to go into hiding. That I needed to be moved, to be protected, and that I was in the Witness Protection Program."

Steve glanced at Chin. No wonder Joe had vanished. There was absolutely no legitimate way to explain his behavior.

Riley paused to take another sip of coffee and nibbled a bite of her toast. "Mmff really good," she mumbled, then swallowed. "Sorry. I didn't think I was hungry. But I think it's been . . . what day is it?"

"Friday," Danny answered. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Um, the last day I remember going to work was Tuesday," Riley answered, taking another bite of toast. She looked at the uneaten piece of toast that Danny had put next to Steve. "You need to eat," she said.

"Yeah, I will," Steve said, "okay, so Joe said he put you in Witness Protection. Where did he take you?"

Riley started to answer, and then narrowed her eyes at Steve and took a big bite of toast. She nodded pointedly at his toast.

"Hooo boy," Kono muttered under her breath. Chin's eyebrows shot up. Danny smiled.

"Fine," Steve sighed and took a huge bite of toast, wincing as he chewed. "Ow."

"What's wrong?" Riley asked.

"Teeth are a little loose in a couple places, and I must have a few cuts inside my mouth."

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that," Danny said, walking toward the kitchen. "Oatmeal coming up."

Steve tamped down his frustration, knowing that Danny was right, that if he was going to get his head back in the game he had to regain some strength.

"Okay, so Riley, where did Joe take you when he said you were in Witness Protection?"

"He took me to Frank."

"Frank, our helicopter pilot in North Korea?" Chin asked, incredulous.

Riley shrugged. "Yeah, I stayed with Frank until Joe came back a few years later, when I was about nineteen. Told me that he had great news, there was a scholarship for me at University of Tokyo."

"And how long have you been there?" Danny asked, handing each of them a bowl of oatmeal.

"Was just starting my second year," Riley answered. "I picked up a part-time job at the university; in the English lab."

"And that's where you said you got grabbed, right?" Steve asked. "After work?"

"Yes, that would have been Tuesday evening. I was leaving the lab and walking back to my dorm." Riley paused and pushed her oatmeal around with her spoon.

"Riley, are you okay?" Chin asked kindly. "Do we need to take a break?"

"No, I'm okay," she answered. She looked pointedly at Steve's oatmeal. He rolled his eyes and took a small bite. Riley smiled and took a bite as well. Danny's chuckle was cut short by a glare from Steve, but his eyes crinkled in a smile all the same.

"So, what happened, Riley? On the way back to your dorm," Steve prompted.

"It happened really fast," she said, "I think there were three guys. One of them hit me on the back of the head, and then there was a cloth held over my face. The next thing I knew, I was in a small room. I think it was rocking – that's why I thought I was on a ship – but they kept shooting me up with a needle. So I could have just been really dizzy, I think."

"Is there anything at all that you can tell us about the men? Were they on the ship?"

Riley nodded emphatically. "One of them, the one who held the cloth over my face, had a Yakuza tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He was the one who came in with the needle."

Steve nodded. "This is good, this helps. How do you know Yakuza ink?"

"Growing up near Tokyo you have to be aware. My foster mom made sure I could recognize all of the major crime family body art," Riley answered.

Steve nodded; her explanation made sense. "Okay, tell me what happened, how did you get into the compound with WoFat?"

"We must have traveled all night Tuesday night and through Wednesday and into Thursday. It was light when I got to the compound. I don't remember anything after the last shot they gave me. I woke up with a hood over my face in that . . . cell. The man you call WoFat . . . came in and jerked the hood off my face and asked me about Shelburne. I had no idea what he was talking about. I could only assume it had something to do with why I was in Witness Protection. But I didn't know . . . I'd never heard that name, I had no idea what it meant. He . . . didn't want to accept that. He kept insisting that I did, said that he would make me tell him . . . "

Kono slipped onto the sofa next to Riley and put a comforting hand on her ankle.

"You're doing great, Riley. Do you need to take a break, rest for a bit?" She shot a warning glance at Steve, warning him not to push harder.

Riley shook her head. "No, I'm okay. I just . . . do you know what Shelburne is?" she asked Steve. "I mean, I know you didn't tell WoFat . . . I could hear . . . but do you know? Does it have something to do with the Yakuza? Oliva was in trouble with the Yakuza, so I assume all of this is related to her, right?"

"Yeah, it sounds like there's a connection with the Yakuza; which comes as no surprise in dealing with WoFat. But no, I have no idea what Shelburne is."

"He was so sure we did. Why did he think that?"

Steve took a deep breath, wincing in pain as his ribs and burned skin protested. "I don't know, Riley," he sighed. "I'm so sorry. Whatever this is, I'm so sorry that you are caught up in it. Did he ask you anything else, anything at all?"

"No. He just asked what Shelburne meant, where he could find Shelburne. And when I couldn't answer him . . . " Riley's voice faltered for the first time.

"He hurt you," Steve said quietly, clenching his fists. "Riley, I had no idea . . . I didn't know you were there. I never heard . . . until they pulled us out of the trucks, I didn't know you were there."

Riley shook her head. "There was not a thing you could have done, Steve. I heard the commotion when you came in. I must have been close to you. I could hear . . . I could hear WoFat asking you about Shelburne. I'm so, so sorry . . . I yelled for them to stop but – "

Steve's head shot up. "That was you? I thought . . . I heard – I thought it was Jenna."

"I heard the gunshot and thought he had killed you. I'm sorry you lost your friend."

"Me, too," Steve sighed. "What do you remember next?"

"Another needle. I felt like a pincushion." Riley reached up, wincing, and held her hair away from her neck. Kono gave a low whistle.

"I think you better call Malia, coz," she said to Chin. "This is looking pretty bad, much worse than it did at the hospital."

Chin nodded and stood up to go make the call while Steve stood to get a better look at Riley's neck. It was dotted with injection marks, some of which looked alarmingly inflamed.

"I'm sorry," Riley said, "I guess I was sort of out of it at the hospital. It didn't hurt as much there as it does now."

Steve squeezed Riley's shoulder gently. "Hey, you did great. When you're as severely dehydrated and injured as you are, it's perfectly normal for your mind to try to shut out whatever part of the pain and trauma it can. Malia ran a very sensitive tox screen and she sent a duplicate set of bloodwork over to our lab, too. So, whatever evidence could be collected has been collected. We just want to make sure these injection sites don't get infected or cause you any more trouble."

Riley nodded. She was growing even more pale, and Steve noticed a slight tremor in her hand when she took another sip of coffee.

"Riley," he said, "I know I've pushed you to remember things and I'm sorry . . . but we don't know what they gave you, we don't know how well your memory will hold up. Is there anything else about WoFat, about the compound, that you can remember? All the rest we can try to deal with later – but anything about WoFat I need you to try to tell me now."

Steve had to ignore a disapproving glance from Danny. He knew that Danny's softer side was reluctant to push Riley, but he also knew that details would only become fuzzier as time went on.

"I'm sorry . . . I only remember bits and pieces and it all blurs together. I remember being taken, then waking up a few times in one place, and then waking up at that compound. All WoFat asked me about was Shelburne, and then I heard them bring you in, and then the gunshot . . . I think I must have struggled because I hurt my hands then, and then they gave me another shot, and I woke up in the helicopter." Riley thumped her coffee cup down in frustration. "I can't remember anything useful."

Steve wrapped her trembling hands in his own, tracing his fingers lightly over the bandages on her wrists.

"No, Riley," he said gently, "that's not true. Everything you do remember is a new piece of information. You're doing fine. The most important thing is that we keep you safe, right? The answers will come later."

"You don't understand," she said, agitated, "I know better . . . I was taught to remember, to observe things, to – Frank taught me, and my foster mom, and Joe . . . taught me – I should . . . I should never have been taken in the first place, why wasn't I being more aware?"

Steve felt every nerve in his body go on high alert. Something about this whole situation was raising red flags.

"Ah, Steve, can I see you for a minute?" Danny interrupted.

Steve started to object but Danny gave a vehement jerk of his thumb towards the kitchen.

"What, Danny?!" Steve growled.

"You, my friend, are in full aneurysm face, and you're either going to blow a fuse or scare Riley to death."

"But, Danny," Steve protested, "you heard –"

"Yes, yes, I heard and I am every bit as alarmed as you are. Apparently this has Joe White all over it, and if you're thinking what I'm thinking, then Joe knew all along she was a potential target and he's been moving her around under the radar. Something is definitely rotten in Denmark, but you, my friend, are going on adrenaline and caffeine and you need to take a step back from this. That young woman has been through a horrific ordeal, and while she may not be a simple co-ed, she is clearly injured and exhausted. Steve, we are all running on fumes."

Danny's rant was met with a stony silence. Time to try another tactic.

"Okay, look, aside from our doze in the hospital chairs while you and Riley were knocked out, we've had no sleep for over forty-eight hours. Even Kono, the youngest and most party-hearty among us, is about to keel over from exhaustion. If, God forbid, WoFat makes another move soon – are we going to be in any shape to respond?"

Steve sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Okay, Danny, you're right. We'll call it a night. We need to organize a detail –"

Danny interrupted him. "Taken care of, partner. Malia is on her way here – she and Chin can take Kono home with them. Duke has a detail assigned to them. Grover has a SWAT detail assigned here, and a detail assigned to pick up Cath at Hickam. I'll stay here, take the sofa."

"Wow, Danny . . ." Steve was speechless. He knew that Danny was entirely capable but he hadn't anticipated the measure of relief of having someone step in and assume some of the burden of responsibility. "That's . . . yes. That's actually a very good plan, Danno. Thanks, partner. I mean that."

"I know, you big goof. You are so intent on saving the world . . . someone has to save you from yourself. And, you know, save your team from your Neanderthal tactics." Danny looked up at the flash of light from the driveway. "I'm thinking that's Malia; Duke's team was expecting her."

By the time Malia came in the door, Riley had drifted to sleep on the sofa, with Kono half-asleep next to her.

"Chin said there are injection sites that I should look at?" Malia whispered.

Kono nodded and gently pulled Riley's hair off her neck. Malia shook her head and pulled a tube of antibiotic cream out of her pocket. At the first touch of her hand, Riley's head shot up, narrowly missing connecting with Kono's face.

"Whoa, there," Malia murmured quietly, "Riley, it's Malia, you're okay. It's just medicine for the injection sites, so they don't get infected."

Riley's eyes were somewhat unfocused and her breathing was rapid.

"He's not dead, though, right?" she asked.

"Who, sweetheart?" Malia responded. Kono nodded to Chin, who understood immediately and moved toward the kitchen.

"Steve, I think you better get in here. It seems our young guest is a little disoriented."

Steve and Danny quickly returned to the living room.

"He's not . . . " Riley caught sight of Steve. "Oh. No. Okay. Not dead."

Steve looked at Malia quizzically, but responded to Riley, "Nope. Very much alive."

Riley looked back at Malia. "Something's . . . I feel fuzzy." Her eyes widened in alarm. "Did you – what was in that cream?"

Malia put a calming hand on Riley's shoulder. "Riley, I promise, I would not do that to you, okay? No one here is going to give you anything without your permission. Remember we ran a tox screen? Is it okay if I tell the team, along with you, what we found? It will help things make more sense."

Riley nodded.

"The injections you were given were apparently a class of benzodiazepine. Max's lab will be able to narrow it down even more specifically. It's a strong sedative; it keeps people sedated – in large enough quantities, to the point of unconsciousness – it affects short-term memory, and it's a powerful anti-anxiety drug. As it wears off, you're likely to find yourself disoriented but that's normal. And there isn't any reason to think there's going to be any sort of long-term damage from it." Malia held out the tube of cream to Riley. "You're going to want to keep this on those injection sites, okay? That's not an ideal location for injections, to be honest, and you're going to feel a lot of muscle tenderness there."

Riley reached out to take the tube, and frowned at the shaking in her hand.

"The shakiness is from the benzo wearing off, and also plain and simple exhaustion," Malia assured her, "and that will go away really soon. I really must strongly suggest that you get some solid rest, though." Malia looked sternly at Steve. "That goes for the whole team."

Steve nodded and smiled somewhat sheepishly at Malia. "Yeah, um, Danny has a plan."

"Well, there's at least one sensible one among you, then," Malia said. "Steve, a word?"

Steve followed Malia into the kitchen. "What is it, Malia, is she okay?"

"Well, yes, but I wanted to follow up on something that came up at the hospital – you pointed out that Riley seemed terribly calm about the situation, for a civilian, and wondered if it was drugs, or shock."

"Yeah, and I still wonder – and now, she's talking about Joe having trained her – I have no idea what's going on but yes, I think she's not reacting like a typical civilian."

Malia nodded. "I agree; I can't speak to any training, of course, but I can tell you that when I said the benzos were powerful anti-anxiety drugs, I wasn't kidding. At high doses – and from what we can tell, there is still a lot in her system, so she must have received massive doses – the benzo drugs have a profound calming effect."

"So this could be the drugs, then."

"Yes; at this apparent dosage, she would have been extremely sedated – almost completely unconscious. Even as the dose wore off, the muscle relaxant effect would have rendered her barely able to move, much less defend herself. She would have been confused, disoriented . . . compliant. And uncharacteristically and artificially calm. But, here's what you need to understand – it's going to take well over twenty-four hours for all of the benzodiazepine to wear off. It's likely to get worse before it gets better."

"You're saying, what, Malia?" Steve asked. "Disorientation, confusion?"

"Yes; and likely increased anxiety. Possibly a more normal – albeit delayed – reaction to this entire scenario. Now, if she has had some sort of training – she may be compartmentalizing, dissociating – that's more your field than mine."

"What should we do?" Danny interjected. At Malia's questioning glance, he added, "Oh, I'm staying here. No way am I leaving Super SEAL here unattended."

Malia smiled. "Actually, Danny, I think if you'll follow your excellent parenting instincts, you'll be just fine."

"She's barely out of her teens, really, only about seven years older than Gracie," Steve commented.

"Wasn't just talking about taking care of Riley," Malia retorted. "Now, get some rest – all of you."


	2. Chapter 2

Danny shook his head ruefully and shuffled from the sofa into the hallway. He'd been up the stairs and in Steve's room three times. In two hours. He'd made the same trek from the sofa to Riley's guest room twice in the same time span.

They'd never formalized it as a plan; they never really spoke of it – though Danny was sure that Kono and Chin took it as a given. When an op went bad, when one of them – usually Steve – came out worse for the wear on the other side, no one spent the first night . . . or several . . . home alone. So this was far from the first time that Danny had been on concussion check and nightmare duty with the SEAL. Steve may well be a finely honed fighting machine, but Danny saw the very human side of him during the long nights interrupted by nightmares and pain. Tonight, Steve had reluctantly agreed to take one of the Darvocet tablets prescribed by Malia. Danny knew that the pain would be dulled and allow his body to relax; but with it, the iron control that Steve kept over his emotions during the day would be loosened.

Danny had expected a rough night and hadn't been surprised when both Steve and Riley had woken him with muffled shouts. He could only imagine what horrors were revisiting them as they tried to sleep; he'd seen the extent of Steve's injuries in the hospital and knew that he had endured physical and mental torture at the hands of WoFat. Riley's injuries apparently weren't as severe, but still, they were of the same sort, and she was so young . . . he wasn't sure which was more gut-wrenching: Steve's harsh cries or Riley's quieter whimpers. And then there were the moments when, in what he could only hope was true and restful sleep, one of them would try to turn and gasp in pain as their battered ribs and burned skin protested.

The problem was, neither of them seemed to be able to wake themselves up, but were apparently trapped in the horror of reliving their experiences in their sleep. Danny couldn't bear the thought of it, so he'd dutifully trotted to their respective bedsides to wake them. During his first year as Steve's partner, he'd attempted to wake Steve from a nightmare and nearly been strangled to death; in subsequent months he'd learned how to approach an incoherent SEAL without risking his life: make non-threatening noise (thus the shuffling) and call his name. He'd made the mistake of underestimating Riley, and discovered that she had a mean right hook, even in her sleep: only his experience with Steve had helped him avoid a nasty blow.

This is how Danny found himself standing at the foot of the stairs at 3 am, having been yet again roused out of his own fitful rest by sounds of distress from both directions. At the same time.

"This," he muttered to himself, "is unacceptable."

Fearful that Steve was risking further injury with his increasingly violent tossing and turning, Danny headed up the stairs first.

"Hey, babe," he called out softly, waiting for any indication of response. "Hey, it's Danny. Steve, you're okay. You're home."

He could tell the instant that Steve returned to awareness: the hitched gasp, the shuddering breath, the sigh of relief, as he reoriented himself to time and place.

"Danny," Steve rasped out, "sorry, man. I'm okay."

"Oh, my friend, you are miles and miles away from okay," Danny responded. "Neither of you are okay and no one is getting much rest. Come on, buddy, we're going to try something different."

Danny walked over to the bed and gently but firmly took Steve by the shoulders and helped him sit up. "You, super SEAL, are coming downstairs and I'm getting you settled in the recliner. You keep thrashing around and aggravating those ribs."

Steve nodded. "Okay, that sounds good. Let me hit the head."

While Steve was otherwise engaged, Danny went to grab his pillow and blanket, shaking his head when he discovered them sweat-soaked. There would be laundry in the morning. He grabbed a clean pillow and blanket from Steve's closet; he'd been through this routine enough to know exactly where to find clean linens.

Steve was walking stiffly toward the stairs, his arm bracing his most damaged side.

"You good, Steve?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, I got it." Steve made his way down the stairs painfully and slowing, pausing at the bottom when he heard Riley calling out his name softly in her sleep.

"Go," Danny indicated toward the recliner. "I'll get her."

"Danny." Steve said an entire paragraph in his name: it was thank you, and you're the best partner, and I'm sorry I've put you through this – again; and most of all, it was pain and regret for yet another innocent person caught in the middle of this waking nightmare.

"I know, babe, I know."

Steve stood in the hall and watched as Danny went into the open door of the guest room. He noticed that Danny approached cautiously and grinned, wondering if it was habit or something learned from recent experience.

"Riley," Danny called out softly. "Hey, sweetheart, it's Danny. It's okay, you're safe. You're at Steve's house, remember?"

"Danny?" Riley was clearly confused. "Where's Frank?"

Danny sighed. Steve could tell this was not the first time they'd been through this.

"Wait, they're hurting him . . . no, make them stop!" Riley struggled against her tangled covers, sharp cries of pain escaping as she twisted her fractured ribs.

Steve was past Danny in two long strides. Mindless of his own injuries, he wrapped Riley gently in his arms, his hand cradling her head to his shoulder.

"I'm okay, Riley," he murmured into her ear. "I'm right here. He's not hurting me anymore, and he's not hurting you anymore, either, okay? We're safe. I've got you."

He felt Riley nodding, her hands clutching tightly into the fabric of his t-shirt. He realized that he could barely feel her breathing, as if she were holding her breath.

"Riley, hey, breathe," he said. Danny looked alarmed, and pulled his phone out, ready to make a call at a split second's notice.

Steve relaxed his hold on Riley and gently tried to push her back so he could look at her, but she kept her grip on him and kept her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"I'm okay, just . . . I'm okay," she muttered. Steve realized then what was happening – she was fighting for control; fighting with every fiber of her being, and terrified to even take a breath for fear that she would lose her grip on her emotions. It was how he had spent much of his adult life, starting with the day the uniformed officer had arrived to tell him that his mother had been killed in a car accident.

Danny read the situation quickly as well, and shook his head affectionately at the two of them. He'd long held the opinion that Steve's version of control was highly, highly overrated, and he had no intention of Riley attempting such behavior, not on his watch.

Besides, Riley was turning just a bit blue, and Steve couldn't possibly hold this position much longer with his injured ribs.

Remembering Malia's advice to follow his instincts, Danny sat down next to Riley on the edge of the bed, and started rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

"Hey, babe, you're gonna need to let go of the SuperSEAL just a bit – I don't think his ribs can take much more of this," Danny said softly.

Steve frowned in protest, but Danny gave him one of his "I've-got-this" glances.

Riley immediately let go of her grip on Steve's t-shirt and pressed her hands to her eyes instead. "Sorry!" she muttered.

"No, you've nothing to apologize for," Danny assured her, "I've just got my hands full with the both of you, don't want anyone getting worse instead of better. And Riley, sweetheart, you have got to breathe. You're going to pass out."

She shook her head minutely and continued to take very short, very shallow breaths.

"Riley, you're hyperventilating, and that's not unusual after what you've been through, okay?" Steve tried. "Can you try to slow down your breathing?"

Riley held her breath again, and Danny rolled his eyes at Steve. "Not helping," he mouthed.

Danny looked sternly at Steve. "Can you make it to the recliner without keeling over on me?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay. Go. I'm right behind you." And with that, Danny scooped Riley up in his arms and followed Steve into the living room. As Steve painfully lowered himself into the chair, Danny sat down on the sofa with Riley. He gently took her face in his hands.

"Riley, I know what you're trying to do. You need to stop worrying about staying in control, about being whatever it is you think you're expected to be. Okay? I want you to take a good, deep breath for me. Right now." Danny had slipped into what Steve thought of as his "dealing-with-a-stubborn-Grace" tone.

Riley blinked in surprise and then tried to comply. She took in a deep shuddering breath, but then appeared to get stuck on how to release it. She gave a sort of hiccup, and would have hidden her face in her hands again, had Danny not gently grabbed both of her hands in one of his. His other hand went to brush the hair out of her face, and tilt her head to maintain eye contact with him.

"Okay, it's okay, you're good. You're okay. Just breathe."

Riley took in another breath and exhaled in a sob. Danny gently kept her focused on him.

"Riley, it's okay. Let go. Breathe."

Danny held her as she fell apart in heart-wrenching sobs, stroking her hair and murmuring softly in her ear. Steve felt completely helpless, and entirely impressed with Danny.

As she quieted a bit and regained control of her breathing, Danny asked, "What were the worst nightmares about, sweetheart?"

"I heard them. Over and over again . . . I saw them bring him in, and then I heard them beating him . . . and I yelled and yelled for them to stop, to come back to me, but no one would listen. And I heard WoFat and I heard that damn cattle prod, and I heard him scream and I knew . . . I knew WoFat was going to not stop until he had killed him. And if I had known who Shelburne was, I would have told them. I would have, to make them stop. And then I heard that gunshot and I thought . . . " Riley broke off with another sob.

"You thought that WoFat had killed Steve?" Danny prompted.

Riley nodded. "And I thought, it was my fault. If I had known what he wanted . . . but I'm not supposed to give out information, Joe said, he warned me . . . but I would have, if I had known, and then that would have been my fault . . ." Her words were coming out in a rush.

"Shh," Danny soothed, "but, you didn't know, so there was absolutely nothing you could have done; and, you didn't know, so you didn't give out any information that you shouldn't have – and we are going to so get into that tomorrow but not tonight – so it's okay, sweetheart. You were in an impossible situation and you couldn't do anything."

Riley shook her head. "If I had fought harder, maybe, or I could have slipped out of the chair, or something. I just sat there and let them . . . I could hear them, Danny, don't you understand? I could hear all of it . . . "

"What, you think you could have somehow . . . Riley, are you blaming yourself for not stopping WoFat from torturing Steve?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"Yes, of course," Riley whispered – as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Danny and Steve exchanged "I've-got-nothing" glances.

"Okay," Danny said, "well, that is . . . wow, okay, Riley, you are a college student, I'm guessing barely twenty if that, and Steve is a highly trained, uncommonly capable United States Naval Officer, part of the SEALs, and leader of an elite law enforcement task force. I think, sweetheart, that you need to cut yourself a little slack, okay?"

Riley nodded dubiously. Danny could see that she was past the point of exhaustion, and he gently pulled her feet out and pressed her shoulders down onto the sofa. He tucked the soft throw around her and stroked her cheek gently. "Close your eyes, sleep for a little bit, okay? We are right here."

She didn't even respond; she was asleep before he finished speaking.

Steve jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen and carefully stood up and walked in.

Grabbing a glass of water, Steve took a few gulps. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, literally speechless.

"Danny, this is seriously messed up. Every time she shows anxiety or fear – "

"Same thing, Steve. Remarkably and completely unconcerned about her own ordeal. Calling out for them to stop hurting you."

"So, Malia said that as the benzos wore off, she would experience a more typical level of anxiety."

"Yeah, and so far, her primary source of anxiety is . . . well, you. She hasn't said one thing – awake or in her sleep – about being kidnapped, drugged, beaten, electrocuted, restrained. That can't be normal."

Steve sighed. "It is for a SEAL."

"You're not suggesting . . . what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting she's having exactly the reaction that I would have in her place: confident in my own ability to withstand torture, unable to forgive myself for allowing it to happen to someone else. And I'm suggesting that she is either having an almost psychotic and completely atypical reaction to what's happened, or there is way more to her than meets the eye, because she's compartmentalizing at a scary good level, and assuming responsibility for my safety and well-being in that situation implies that under some circumstances, she has reason to think that she could have intervened successfully."

Realization dawned on Danny.

"Joe White," he said.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "If he wasn't part of the equation, I'd assume that with the drugs and delayed stress response, she's having an understandable reaction to hearing someone else being tortured and feeling helpless."

"Which is horrific, and for some personalities, more traumatizing than physical pain," Danny continued.

"Exactly. But factor in Joe White . . . Danny, she apparently has some reason to think that she could have actually broken out of there and rescued me from WoFat, and she's second-guessing as to why she wasn't able to do that. "

"Oh, shit," Danny replied, succinctly.

"No kidding."

Steve swayed a bit.

"Whoa there, partner," Danny reached out a steadying hand. "Okay, we definitely have to get some answers but first, you need to go down, and then the sun needs to come up, and in that order." Danny slipped easily back into his parenting persona. "Into the recliner with you, we've got Riley comfy on the sofa, and I am going to crash right here on this loveseat – don't even with the short jokes, Steven, I am in no mood. Since Riley is waking up anxious about you, she'll feel better if she sees you when her eyes pop open. You, my friend, will rest better if you're not thrashing around on those broken ribs. Everyone wins and maybe I can sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. This is worse than the Great Flu Incident the year Grace was in first grade."

Steve was too tired and too amused to argue; besides, Danny's plan had merit. Strategically, even.

The rest of the night passed a bit more smoothly.

As the drugs wore off, Riley was able to wake up more easily on her own, and as Danny had predicted, was much less anxious being able to see Steve, alive and relatively in one piece.

Steve refused additional pain medication, with an "are you kidding me?" to Danny, but rested more comfortably without tossing and turning.

Content that the worst was over, Danny shuffled down to Mary's room just as the first rays of sunrise warmed the house. He knew that Steve would be fully awake soon, and want some space and sense of control, without Danny hovering over him.

* * *

Catherine let herself into the house quietly, gently placing her suitcase by the door and her keys silently onto the table. She surveyed the normally tidy living room and glancing into the dining area. Pillows and blankets were tossed haphazardly around the sofas and chairs. Maps, charts, and devices appeared to have taken over the dining room table, which served primarily as Steve's home office most of the time, anyway, since his discovery of that damnable Champs box.

A soft sound drew her attention back to the sofa, and she realized someone was curled up there sleeping. Danny had given her only the barest of information, but enough for her to know that this must be the young woman they had pulled out of North Korea along with Steve.

Not wanting to wake or startle her, Catherine moved quietly toward the stairs, smiling fondly at the sound of Danny's gentle snoring coming from Mary's room. God bless him, he had to be exhausted.

The door to Steve's bedroom was closed, and Catherine knew better than to risk startling a post-mission SEAL. She settled into a comfy chair on the landing. When she heard the shower stop running, she sent him a text.

 _Hey, sailor._

 _Cath. You're here?_

 _Just outside your door._

Steve opened the door, hair still wet, and wearing one of his oldest, softest pair of cut-off Navy sweatpants. He looked startled to see Catherine on the landing.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "this door."

Catherine stood, taking in the burn marks scattered across the violent bruising. She walked to him slowly, her graceful fingers reaching up to trace over the steri-strips holding together the cut over his eyebrow. His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her against him, suddenly desperate to hold her. She gently pulled his head down to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

"Steve," she whispered, "you're home."

"You came," he whispered back.

"Of course. I would have come to North Korea if I could have."

"Glad you didn't. You can't risk your career for me."

Catherine snorted. "I risk my career for you every time I retask a military satellite without permission."

"You can't risk your life for me. This has to stop . . . I'm hurting people; good people, who care about me, and who don't deserve –"

"Stop. Steve, you deserve to have people in your life who love you. When will you let yourself believe that?"

He sighed, hands tangling in her hair, breathing in the scent of her rather than responding, because he had no idea how to answer that question. She held him as tightly as she dared, until she accidentally grazed too closely to one of the burn marks, and he flinched.

"Okay, sailor, let's get those burns medicated and covered, get you dressed, and get some coffee, yeah?" she asked, smiling up at him.

Steve gently framed her face in his hands, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, Catherine. I'm not even going to pretend that I didn't need you to be here."

By the time they reached the kitchen, Riley had disappeared into the guest shower, and Danny was pouring coffee.

"C'mere, you," he said to Catherine, holding his arms out for a hug.

"Thank you for calling me, Danny," she said. "Now, someone want to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"Who's asking," Danny replied, "Catherine, the not-girlfriend, or Lieutenant Rollins, Naval Intelligence?"

"For right now, standing in the kitchen? Catherine the . . . not-girlfriend – is that what Steve calls me? I don't know if I'm offended or relieved."

"That's what Danny calls you, and okay, if this is off the record, I'll tell you everything. Catherine, I'm serious, I don't want you jeopardizing your career," Steve explained.

"That ship's sailed; may as well tell me everything. And if I can help, officially or otherwise, I will," she stated resolutely.

"Okay, this is what we know: Riley Patterson was being held in the same compound where Jenna delivered me to WoFat, in what she thought was an exchange for her fiancé, Josh. Turns out he was long dead. Riley had arrived before me, though. WoFat was in the process of questioning her when I was brought in."

"Questioning her?" Cath interrupted.

Anger flashed in Steve's eyes. "Yeah, like he questioned me: beating, a damn cattle prod. She had been kidnapped, starved, and drugged first, though. He asked one thing of both of us: the identity of a code name, Shelburne. I'm not even sure if he knows if it's a person or a location."

"And it means nothing to you?"

"It was written on a map in my dad's toolbox. I have no idea what it means – only that it's connected to him in some way, and that WoFat is desperate for answers."

"And Riley? Anything?"

"She says no – says that she would have gladly given up the information if she had known it. She, um . . . well, apparently she had more trouble with overhearing WoFat in the room with me than in dealing with her own ordeal ."

Catherine paused and poured herself and Steve another cup of coffee.

"Unusual reaction, from a civilian," she commented.

"Yeah, well unusual doesn't begin to cover it," Danny said. "Turns out Joe White has been leading Riley around the globe, ostensibly as part of WITSEC."

"Ostensibly, Danny?" Steve said.

"It's a perfectly appropriate word," he retorted.

"Wait, no way is Joe part of WITSEC," Catherine protested. "The Navy does not involve itself in civilian witness protection."

"We know that," Steve explained, "but Riley didn't. Apparently she's had no reason to doubt it before. I think her run-in with WoFat has her questioning a lot of things."

"No shit," Riley said, entering the kitchen.

Danny, still following his parenting instincts, went and wrapped Riley in a gentle hug; tousling her damp hair. He was pleased that she didn't flinch or pull away from him.

"Riley," Danny said, "meet Lieutenant Catherine Rollins. Cath, this is Riley Patterson. She's a little something extra we picked up on our vacation to North Korea."

Riley gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Catherine offered her. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You okay?" Steve asked her, brushing a finger over the line of steri-strips that resembled his own. "These are gonna need to be replaced."

"Yeah, I'm good," she responded. "What's the plan? Where do we start?"

"You're sure you're up for this?" Danny asked. "Sweetheart, we have no idea where the answers are going to lead."

"Look, Danny, whoever this WoFat character is, he's not going to stop until he finds this Shelburne. I don't intend to sit around waiting for him to send someone to knock me over the head again."

Steve nodded. "Well, then let's gear up and head to HQ."

"Excellent," Riley said, "get me to a good computer."

Danny, Catherine, and Steve all turned to look at her.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't mention? My scholarship to the University of Tokyo? Computer Forensics."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the four were heading out the door. Steve and Riley moved stiffly but with purpose. Danny still looked a little rough around the edges but simply filled a large thermos with coffee and smiled tiredly at Catherine's gentle suggestion that he stay and get more sleep.

"There's a sofa in my office, Catherine, but thanks. I'm curious now to see what young Riley can do."

* * *

 _Undisclosed location_

" _We're going to have to move you again," Joe spoke quietly into the phone. "Well, he has Riley with him. Yes. It's only a matter of time. Wait for me there; I will be there within twenty-four hours. Be ready."_

 _He tossed the phone into the water and walked away._


	3. Chapter 3

Riley was duly impressed with the technology available at Five-O headquarters. She was especially grateful, though, for the large computer table which meant she didn't have to sit painfully and awkwardly in a chair with her fractured ribs.

"Okay," Steve announced. "We have several lines of investigation we have to follow. First, where the hell is Joe White, and why has he been lying to Riley about being in WITSEC? Second, why was he really hiding Riley; was it really because of her foster mom and the Yakuza? And third, what is WoFat's connection to Riley, and why does he think Riley knows anything about Shelburne?"

"And the other big question, who or what is Shelburne?" Danny added.

"I think we're overlooking the first question that we need to answer," Chin said. "Who is Riley? If Joe has lied to her about one thing, he's just as likely lied to her about everything. Starting with her name."

Riley paled.

"Sorry," Chin said. "That was probably much too blunt."

"No, you're right," Riley said. "I only know what Joe and my foster mom told me . . . "

"Okay, let's start there," Steve said. "What have you been told?"

"Right. My parents were in a modern-day commune; so when I was born, I wasn't issued a Social Security number, there was no birth certificate. They were committed to being 'off the grid'. I guess they were a little too fringe to be considered fit parents, because apparently child protective services pulled all of the children out after complaints from concerned citizens. I was placed with Olivia Patterson. Eventually, my birth parents surrendered parental rights so that I could be adopted, and as long as I can remember, I've been told my name is Riley Patterson."

"Do you know your parents' names? Maybe we could start there," Chin suggested.

"Worth a try, but unlikely," Riley answered. "I've never been able to dig up legal records for Sunshine and Starshine O'Riley. And that's the only names I have to go on."

"Wait, your name was Riley O'Riley? Seriously?" Kono was incredulous.

Riley grinned. "No, Oliva said she kept the Riley to honor my parents. My name – not that there is a record of it anywhere – was Moonbeam O'Riley. I kid you not. She never spoke ill of my parents, mind you, but as I got older we created entire storylines of what they were doing. They became like . . . imaginary friends. Treasured, but never taken seriously."

"I can imagine. So, living with Oliva – where did you grow up?" Steve asked.

"Well, from the earliest I can remember, in Japan. She was single, had a job as a freelance writer, mostly for travel magazines. I guess she could live anywhere she wanted to, and she chose just outside of Tokyo. I did my schoolwork at home. I guess I started using the computer so early that it just became second nature to me. I learned all kinds of things, though. We lived in a little town and everyone bartered for everything. Olivia traded laundry and sewing for things like martial arts lessons, botany lessons . . . it was actually an incredibly cool childhood. She taught me to drive when I was . . . wow, I couldn't have been more than twelve. We played games constantly – mostly memory games, trying to guess what people were thinking or doing . . . I was happy."

Riley looked wistful for a moment.

"You okay, kid?" Danny asked. "You said she went missing? Do you know what happened?"

"One day, I guess I was around sixteen – we never celebrated birthdays, so I sort of lost track – I walked home from my martial arts training and she was just . . . gone. Nothing was missing. No note, no explanation. I wasn't sure what to do, but she had taught me to be completely self-sufficient so I just carried on. I searched for her everywhere; I even went into Tokyo. Until the day Joe White showed up. He introduced himself as Agent Pierce and said he was with WITSEC. He had credentials. I believed him."

Steve nodded at Chin, who pulled up a file on Joe White and displayed it on the large plasma.

"We know Joe White as a Navy Commander. He was my training officer in BUDs in Coronado," Steve explained. "Catherine is in Naval Intelligence, with an incredibly high ranking security clearance. We have no reason to believe that Joe was ever in WITSEC. What explanation did he give?"

"He said that Oliva had witnessed a Yakuza execution; that she wasn't really a travel writer, she was an investigative reporter and she had stumbled onto something huge. She'd had to go underground, and they were moving me away for my safety." Riley pulled up a map of Korea on the computer table. Chin was impressed with how easily she navigated the menus and touch screens.

"Yeah, look, it works great for you," Danny grumbled.

"It's my thing, Danny," Riley smiled at him. "Joe took me to Frank. Said I would be safe there. Joe stayed for a few months; he said it was to get me settled in, make sure I understood WITSEC protocol."

"Right," Steve said, skeptically. "What sort of protocol?"

"Well, escape and evade, basic explosives, access and entry, rifles, handguns, that sort of thing," Riley answered.

Blank stares of amazement focused on her.

"Um, what?" she said, confused.

"Riley, that's not WITSEC protocol. That's . . . that sounds like SEAL training," Steve responded slowly.

"That's not . . . oh. So, not everyone in witness protection gets that kind of training?" Riley asked.

"Riley, no one in witness protection gets that kind of training. The point of witness protection is to give people a chance to quietly live their lives in safety and to blend in with society; not to turn them into ninjas," Danny explained.

Steve turned and walked away from the table, and disappeared from the room.

"I don't understand," Riley said quietly.

"Catherine, have you ever heard of anything like this?" Kono asked.

"No, never. This is absolutely not Navy protocol," Catherine replied.

The rest of the team watched with curiosity as Steve strode back into the room and casually placed a black case on the table in front of Riley. Kono recognized it immediately as the case for the Knight's Armament SR-25 sniper rifle.

"Go ahead," he nodded to Riley.

Riley opened the case, glanced at Steve, shrugged, and assembled the rifle with apparent practiced ease. Kono gave a low whistle; she was an expert with the rifle, and Riley's ease of handling and speed of assembly was not far behind her own.

"Nicely done, Riley," Steve said, but his voice was strained. "Take it back down."

He covered the space between the table and his office in a few angry strides, closing the door sharply behind him. The team could see him pull out his phone. He waited for several long seconds, and then threw his phone down on his desk in disgust.

"Did I do something wrong?" Riley asked, glancing at Kono.

"No, sistah, you're fine. Nice handling, by the way." Kono smiled warmly at Riley while casting a worried glance at the rest of the team.

Danny started to move toward the office, but Catherine stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let me give it a try, Danny," she said. "Why don't you all take a minute – get some coffee, maybe start pulling some background on whatever you can find on Riley's parents and foster mom, okay?"

"Talk to me, sailor," Catherine said, closing the door gently behind her. "I take it from your pacing that you're still not reaching Joe?"

"Nothing, Cath. I've reached out to all my contacts – official and otherwise. It's like he's vanished. Damn it, Catherine, Joe spent months training that girl. She was just a high school kid, why did he think she needed SEAL level training? You saw the way she handled that rifle. That's muscle memory, Cath. He trained her and he pushed her hard, there's no two ways about it."

"And you have no idea why?"

"No, and unless she is damn good at hiding, neither did she. Cath, was he training her for her own defense or as a weapon? What is he trying to hide?"

"I don't know Steve, and I don't like it any more than you do."

"Cath, I'm not sure what to do. If I keep digging – who else do I put in danger? Maybe Joe was right; maybe Riley was endangered because I was getting too close to something, asking too many questions. But we're not safe in the dark, either." Steve rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, wincing as his callused hand caught the steri-strips over his eyebrow.

The rest of the day was spent pouring over files and records. Riley had been hopeful that her expertise in computer forensics, combined with Steve and Catherine's high-level clearance, would yield some results. But as the sun started to set, they had only more questions, and absolutely no more answers.

Danny, as usual, was the first one to suggest calling it a day and getting some rest.

"Look, we've done all we can for one day. We're all jet-lagged; Steve and Riley are injured. And, may I be perfectly selfish here – I haven't seen Gracie for over a week."

Chin clapped Danny on the shoulder. "Go, brah, go see that beautiful girl of yours. I'll convince Steve to wrap up here."

Danny went towards Steve office to say goodnight before leaving. He paused outside the door, watching Steve, Catherine, and Riley as they stood in front of Steve's desk, looking at some records of Joe White's that Catherine had pulled up on the plasma. At first, Danny's eyes lingered on the pictures and maps on the screen; however, his gaze quickly settled on Steve and Riley, standing side by side with their backs to the glass office walls.

"Hunh," he muttered.

"Whatzit, Danny?" Kono asked, having noticed Danny standing outside Steve's office.

"I'm not sure . . . just . . . okay, look at Steve and Riley. What do you see?" he asked Kono.

Kono tilted her head and observed for a moment. "Okay, that's a little creepy," she said.

"What's creepy?" Chin had joined them.

"Okay, look at Riley and Steve," Kono instructed. "Do you see it? Look at the way they're standing. Arms crossed, shoulders back, weight slightly to the left . . . "

"They look like freaking synchronized swimmers," Danny grumbled.

"Both trained by Joe White?" Chin suggested.

Kono nodded. "Yeah, that could explain it. I've seen Joe and Steve standing together . . . I thought it was a Navy SEAL thing. That probably explains it."

Danny nodded slowly. Something nagged at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. Okay, I'm gonna say goodnight and then go see my monkey."

The rest of the team convinced Steve to call it a day, citing hunger and fatigue, and headed to grab food from Kamekona's shrimp truck before parting ways.

When Steve, Catherine, and Riley arrived back at his house, Steve was pleased to find that Grover had kept a detail on his house all day.

"The house is secure, Commander," the uniformed officer informed him, shaking his hand. "Our relief team will be here in about thirty minutes. We'll try to stay out of your way, give you some peace and quiet, but we are here for anything you need."

"Thanks, Sergeant," Steve said. "Appreciate SWAT's support."

Inside, Catherine went up to take a shower while Steve fixed a pot of coffee. "Make yourself at home, Riley," he instructed. "Oh, I almost forgot – Grover's wife went out and picked up some clothes and things for you today – hope that was okay. Grover said she had deadly accuracy with sizes and styles; she and her daughter apparently had a great day out shopping, and you should have enough to tide you over until we can get you properly settled. They put everything in the guest room."

Riley stretched gingerly; her ribs were protesting time on her feet and standing over the computer table. "That was incredibly thoughtful," she said, "I'll need to make sure to write a proper thank-you note." Steve smiled. His mom had been a stickler for thank-you notes; always made sure he and Mary had them neatly mailed out to Aunt Deb. It was a habit that he had maintained.

Riley headed down the hall, and into the guest room, delighted to find some very soft and comfy sweats among the small duffle of clothes left on the bed for her. Padding back toward the kitchen, she picked up the laptop bag that she had carried home from HQ.

"Thanks for letting me bring this back," she said to Steve, going into the kitchen to snag some coffee. "I thought I might start with my student ID number at Tokyo University, work my way back. Since I have no birth certificate or Social Security number – that I know of – it's all I have to go on. I've done it before, and didn't get very far, but I've never been able to legally access some of the information that you and Catherine can."

"You've never been able to legally access the information . . . could you have . . . illegally?" Steve asked, curious.

"You mean could I hack it?" Riley grinned.

"Well, yeah."

"Easy."

"But you didn't." It was a statement, not a question.

"Nope."

"Why not? Weren't you curious?"

"Of course . . . but . . . Joe pointed out that anything I did could create a trail that would lead back to Olivia, and put her in danger. I wasn't going to risk that. I'm still worried about that, in fact, but it seems like I could just as easily be putting her in danger by not knowing . . . I don't know. I'm not sure what to believe about anything right now."

Steve sighed. He wasn't sure if Joe was protecting Riley or himself. "Look, Riley . . . we could actually put you in WITSEC, if you wanted . . . " He trailed off the thought. He really couldn't imagine sending her away, but at the same time, he knew that he was in danger of using her for answers – and how was that any better than what Joe White had done?

"Please, no," Riley protested vehemently. Steve was startled to see tears in her eyes. "Please, don't send me away . . . I know I'm not being terribly useful right now, but if I have to start all over again . . . Joe thought he had me somewhere safe and WoFat's people still found me . . . " She was becoming agitated.

Steve crossed to her quickly and wrapped her in a gentle hug.

"Riley, no, that's not it at all. You're being incredibly helpful. I just don't want to put you in even more danger. I seem to do that."

"You weren't anywhere near me when I got bashed over the head and thrown on a ship," Riley pointed out. "It was your people coming to rescue you that got me away from WoFat. I think I'll take my chances with you and your team, Steve."

He nodded. "We'll do everything we can to find answers, and to keep you safe."

"Okay, then," Riley sighed in relief. "Where can I set up to do a little homework? Oh my gosh, I should literally check in with my professors . . . they must be frantic . . . can I do that? Is that safe?"

Steve paused. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I hadn't thought about that. Let's talk it over with Catherine. Maybe she has some contacts there who could help us. Go ahead and set up at that table in the dining room – just clear a spot and make yourself comfortable."

"Sounds reasonable," Riley said, as she went into the dining room, laptop in one hand and coffee in the other.

Steve heard her puttering around, shifting some of the maps, plugging in the laptop, and settling her coffee onto a coaster. He could hear the soft whir of the computer booting up, and the gentle footfalls of Catherine as she came back down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

Steve took a deep breath and allowed himself a moment to relax. They may be far from answers, but Catherine was here, Riley was safe, his ohana was intact. He opened his arms for a hug as Cath came into the kitchen; enjoying the warmth of her slim body wrapped in his arms, the fragrance of her shampoo familiar and comforting. It was a rare moment of peace and contentment in the middle of the unknown.

He should have known it would be incredibly short lived.

"Steve?"

He turned, immediately on alert at the strained quality of Riley's voice.

She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a framed picture clenched in her hands so tightly that she had broken the glass. It had cut her hand, badly, from the looks of it, but she was oblivious to the blood steadily dripping onto the floor.

"Riley, what is it?" Catherine asked, alarmed.

"Steve, why do you have all these pictures of my foster mom? Why are there pictures of Olivia?"


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine helped Riley put pressure on the deep laceration across the base of her thumb.

"I'm sorry," Riley whispered.

"Why? Why should you be sorry?" Catherine asked gently.

"I've really freaked him out. I don't understand, Catherine," Riley said, watching nervously outside, where Steve stood looking out over the water, now reflecting the deepening sunset. "Maybe I'm wrong? Maybe it's not the same person."

Catherine shook her head. "Riley, I don't know what to think, but I can't believe that it's a coincidence that the woman who raised you is . . . or looks exactly like . . . Steve's mom. Clearly there is some connection here, we just don't know what yet. But sweetie, you have to understand – Steve thought his mom died when he was sixteen. This is just a lot to take in. If his mother really was your foster mom, then everything Steve knows about his family is a lie."

Steve's ribs protested as he sank into the aged chair by the shore, watching the last of the sun's rays sinking into the horizon.

Was it possible that Riley had been raised by his mother? Was that Joe's secret – that his mother had been alive? Why else would WoFat think that Riley might have information that Steve might have – despite the fact that neither of them could have even given WoFat the information if they had wanted to. And what on earth would possess Joe to give Riley specialized training? His mind was spinning.

He sighed as Catherine sat down in the chair next to him, handing him a Longboard.

"Here you go, sailor, I think you've earned this. No painkillers tonight, though, right?" she said.

Steve grimaced. "No painkillers regardless. I'd rather have the pain than . . . well, you know."

She did know. Danny wasn't the only one who had witnessed the aftermath of missions gone sideways, men injured, and more. Catherine just had more . . . creative ways of soothing the SEAL's frayed nerves.

"She okay?" Steve asked, tilting his head back toward the house.

"Well, we got the bleeding stopped. I was ready to call Malia, but she mixed up some honey and cayenne pepper and . . . " Catherine shuddered slightly. "It was disgusting and it can't possibly be sanitary, but somehow, it worked."

Steve grimaced. "Yeah, and I promise you it hurt like hell. But it does the trick."

"Joe White teach her that?" Catherine asked.

"Likely," Steve bit off the word angrily.

"Steve," Catherine said gently, "You and Riley are not going to solve this tonight. Come on in, get some rest. You have to be exhausted. And she's worried. She's afraid that she's made you angry."

"Of course I'm not angry with her," Steve said, "she's been a pawn in some sick game since Joe stepped in to her life a few years ago."

"Yeah, she's realizing that, Steve. So imagine how it feels to worry that the one person who's putting the pieces together is going to get angry with her and possibly send her away? She puts on a brave face, and the way she handled that sniper rifle is nothing short of intimidating. But underneath all of that, she is barely out of her teens, still dehydrated and malnourished from a recent kidnapping, and still injured from being tortured for information that she doesn't know whether or not she has," Catherine explained gently.

Steve sighed and put his head in his hands. Of course Catherine was right. Danny and Kono had tried to keep him mindful.

"You're right, Cath . . . there's something about her, I can't put my finger on it. She reminds me . . . well, of me. Her insistence that she should have somehow helped me get free of WoFat; the fact that she's been able to essentially ignore or dismiss her own injuries. Joe trained her well, Catherine, it's like working with a fellow SEAL. I forget how young she is, how frightened she must be. I don't see past the training, not like you and Danny do."

"Well, then," Catherine said, "it's good for all concerned that you keep us around. Come on, let's go try to get some rest, and we'll take it from here in the morning."

They found Riley curled up on the sofa holding one of the pictures of Steve's mom.

"Sorry," she said, when they entered, putting the picture down immediately.

"No, Riley, it's okay," Steve assured her. "I don't understand any of this but you don't have to apologize."

Riley swiped impatiently at a tear that had managed to escape. "I just . . . I haven't spoken to her in about four years. I have no idea what happened to her."

"I haven't spoken to her in about twenty years," Steve said quietly. "And I was told she was killed in a car accident."

"So," Riley said slowly, "tomorrow, do we start . . . "

"Yes." Steve nodded, firmly. "Tomorrow we start following her trail. So, off to bed with you kiddo, get some rest. What do you need? Pain medicine? Anything? Catherine said to be sure to remind you to drink plenty, you're still dehydrated."

"Please, no more of those pain pills," Riley groaned. "That was horrible. I'll drink more water. I think I just want to sleep."

Steve tousled her hair gently. "Okay. I'm going to try to get some rest too. But listen . . . you give a yell if you need anything . . . anything at all, okay?"

Riley nodded. "Do you mind . . . " she hesitated.

"What? What is it?" Steve asked.

"Would it be okay if I slept out here, on the sofa? It's just . . . this room is more open, and there's light from outside . . . " she ducked her head, embarrassed, as if she had admitted a great weakness.

Steve slid next to her on the sofa, put his arm around her, and gently pressed her head down to his shoulder.

"Riley, when I said anything, I meant it. If sleeping out here makes you more comfortable, then of course. Whatever you need, okay?" He went and got two pillows from the guest room and brought them out to Riley.

She accepted them gratefully and carefully eased her aching ribs down into the cushions of the sofa. She was asleep before he was halfway up the stairs.

Hours later, he finally relaxed enough to let the gentle sound of Catherine's breathing lull him to sleep.

* * *

Grover was right; his wife and daughter had a knack for size and style. Riley felt completely at ease in the simple, soft cargo pants, plain gray t-shirt, and low ankle boots they had chosen for her.

While still a bit sore, both she and Steve had managed to get a half-way decent night's rest. The rest of the team looked considerably more coherent when they assembled around the computer table. Danny had picked up a box of malasadas, and Kono came in bearing six steaming lattes.

"Okay, fearless leader," Danny said, briskly rubbing his hands together. "Where do we begin today?"

Kono took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, boss, when do we get to kick down some doors?" Chin shook his head. Sad thing was, Kono was barely joking. Perhaps he had been amiss in bringing his baby cousin into the Five-O fold; ah, well, nothing for it now.

Steve glanced at Catherine, took a deep breath, and flicked his mother's picture up onto the plasma, followed quickly by Riley's picture. The team was silent for a moment, looking at the two pictures, side by side.

"Steve?" Danny asked. "Why are we looking at a picture of your mom, babe?"

"Because," Steve answered slowly. "The woman I knew as Doris McGarrett is apparently the woman Riley knew as Olivia Patterson. We believe that my mom was Riley's foster mom; that she raised her from early childhood until she was about sixteen years old."

The room was silent. Riley looked around nervously.

"We need to follow two trails of information: Kono and Chin, focus on my – on Doris McGarrett. Catherine and Riley, start with Riley's student ID at Tokyo University, and work back from there. Riley, Joe said that you had a scholarship, yeah? Okay start from that angle. Joe had to have pulled something; see what you can uncover, maybe he left a clue."

"What will you be doing, boss?" Kono asked.

"Danny and I are going to go kick down some of those doors you asked about," Steve replied grimly.

* * *

"Commander, Detective, to what do I owe the honor," Sang Min smirked on the other side of the glass.

"No games, no small talk, no deals," Steve spoke with deadly calm into the phone.

Sang Min sat up a little from his customary slouch. "Something has you spooked, Commander McGarrett. What's the matter, your little hottie surfer girl call in sick to work today, hunh?"

"WoFat. I went to visit him in North Korea."

"Why you wanna go do something like that, McGarrett? You crazy?"

"There was a young woman already there. Early twenties. American, raised overseas. WoFat wanted the same information out of her that he wanted out of me. There's a connection to Joe White. Any of this ringing a bell? Did he ever mention going after a young woman? Does he have a history with Joe White – is there a connection to Joe other than me?"

"That's a lotta questions, Commander. I'm not sure I can think about so much at one time, in my current condition. You know, I haven't been sleeping so well; I haven't been eating well. It's hard to think when I'm tired and hungry," Sang Min whined.

Steve stood up and walked away.

Danny motioned to the guard. "Transfer him into general population. Effective immediately."

Sang Min smacked his hand violently against the glass. "Come on, Detective, you can't do that shit!" he protested.

Danny picked up the phone. "I can and I will. You were told, no games. You think you've seen Steve pissed off before? You've seen nothing, my friend. WoFat targeted an innocent young woman; tortured her for information. We have nothing. You know anything, you piece of walking excrement, you tell us and you tell us now. We're not playing games."

Sang Min sighed and sat back down. "Okay, I may have seen a file on WoFat's computer. Two women; one older but still hot, know what I mean? And then a pretty little girl, maybe ten, twelve years old. Series of photos, looked grainy, like they weren't good quality, you know? Not recent. They were timestamped, mid 2000s."

Steve was standing behind Danny's shoulder again. Danny turned to relay the information to him but Steve dismissed him with a curt nod. Of course, Danny thought, among his many talents, Steve was an expert lip reader. He never needed the phone.

Danny handed the phone up to Steve.

"Where were the photos taken?" he demanded.

"I dunno, man, looked Asian. Japan, maybe, Thailand."

"Any indication of a name, anything?"

"No, I only caught a glimpse." Sang Min insisted.

Steve sighed. He pulled up a photo of his mother on his smart phone, and held it up to the glass.

"This the woman? And Sang Min – answer this question very, very carefully. I will not only turn you into general population, I will make the guards give you a crew cut, I swear to God," Steve warned.

"Yeah. That's her," Sang Min said, his lips curving into a lewd smile.

Danny shook his head violently, "Sang Min, trust me, if you have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, you will listen to me when I tell you to stop talking immediately."

* * *

By the time Steve and Danny arrived back at Five-O headquarters, the rest of the team had uncovered a few leads.

"What have you got," Steve said, striding into the squad room.

Riley flipped a PDF of a file onto the large plasma. "I found a paper trail on my so-called 'scholarship'," she said. "My college education has been funded by one Hideki Mokoto. That name means absolutely nothing to me . . ." she broke off at the stricken look on Steve's face. "But I see it means something to you?"

"Yeah," he sighed, trying to think of a way to tell Riley that her benefactor had been tortured and killed for the same information at the hands of WoFat.

"Oh, no," she said, one step ahead of him.

"Riley," Steve said gently, "I'm so sorry. Mokoto was murdered. Joe just introduced us a few weeks ago . . . Mokoto knew my father, tried to help me . . . WoFat got to him. That must be . . . WoFat must have somehow traced the connection to the university. That must be why WoFat targeted you."

"But why would Mokoto pay for Riley's college education?" Catherine asked.

"I have no idea," Steve said, "but it's the best lead we have so far. Clearly, there is a connection between Joe White and Riley, and between Joe White and Mokoto, and between Riley and Mokoto. Danny, what are you doing?"

The team turned to watch Danny rolling a large whiteboard out of his office.

"You all keep going with your files and your screens," he said, waving his hand at the equipment. "I need to see this my own way, old school. Just carry on; I'm just going to duplicate the information in a different arrangement, you never know." He braced himself for the ridicule that he was sure would come from the rest of the team. Instead, he turned and almost bumped into Kono, who had run to the supply room and returned with a fistful of dry erase markers. Four out of five were pink or purple.

"Gracie and I play hangman," she shrugged.

Danny grabbed the green marker and started making notes on the board.

"Okay, Chin and Kono, did you find anything on my mother?" Steve didn't bother with using her given name; objectivity was rapidly going out the window.

"Nothing through official channels – definitely no record of her being a foster parent," Chin began. "But we did find something . . . well, I hope it's okay, but when we came up completely empty going through files in her name, Riley suggested we try looking through your father's files."

Steve nodded. "That's fine, guys . . . listen, we have to turn over every stone. I've been warned that I may not like what I find. Just give it to me straight."

"Your father had opened a file after your mother's car accident, Steve," Kono said.

"Yeah, the accident report, the autopsy . . . I've read all of that," Steve said.

"Steve," Catherine said gently, "your father opened a homicide investigation. He thought your mother was murdered. By the Yakuza."

Kono's lips were pressed together in a worried line.

"Chin?" Steve asked, "You worked with my father – did you know about this?"

"Absolutely not, Steve, I would have never kept that from you," Chin stated emphatically.

Steve paced around the room. Danny gave a low whistle and started a new set of notes on the whiteboard.

"Okay," Steve finally said, leaning against the smart table. "We have my mother – possibly killed in a car accident, possibly murdered by the Yakuza."

"Possibly alive," Riley said in a very small voice.

Steve turned to look at her. "Possibly."

Danny continued. "We have Joe White – knew your father, knew you, knew Mokoto, knew Riley."

"Knew Olivia . . . Doris," Riley said, again so quietly that Steve almost missed it.

Steve stormed into his office and slammed the door so hard the blinds rattled, briefly, before Steve jerked them all closed. Danny held up his hand to the team. "I've got this one, guys," he said.

Steve looked up when Danny opened the door. He opened his mouth to automatically protest, before realizing that Danny was the *one* person that he actually could tolerate talking to in this moment.

"Danny," he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"I know, babe," Danny said simply. "Tell me what's going through your head."

"We don't know the connection, but we're getting closer . . . WoFat definitely –"

"No." Danny cut him off.

Steve looked at him quizzically. "What?"

"Tell me, what are you feeling right now, Steve? We'll figure this all out, eventually. I want to know what's going through that head of yours."

"Danny, we don't have time –"

"Steven." Danny was quiet, but resolute.

"They lied to me, Danny. All of them. My father, my mother, Joe . . . everyone I've ever trusted. They lied to me, they sent me and my sister away from our home, split us up. Now everyone connected to my family in any way is at risk. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. I look for answers, Mokoto gets killed. There's a connection to someone I've never heard of, have no way of knowing, and she gets kidnapped and tortured. Danny, you all rescued Riley completely by accident. If WoFat hadn't put her on that truck behind mine, he would still have her. Mary can't be on the island because of the Yakuza. Lies, Danny, lies and deception and –" Steve broke off and gasped in pain, wrapping his arm around his ribs.

Danny was at his elbow in a split second. "Whoa, there, Super SEAL," he said, easing Steve down onto his sofa.

Steve groaned in pain. "Sitting, not good Danno," he ground out.

"I know, that's why you're not sitting," Danny said, expertly pulling Steve's long legs up onto the couch.

Steve protested and made to sit up.

"Down, boy," Danny said, pressing a hand against his chest and pushing him back into the cushions. "You've pushed too hard for too long. You're going to be useless to anyone if you don't take a break."

"Riley," Steve muttered.

"What about Riley, buddy?" Danny asked.

"If I'm hurting, she's probably been pushing it way too hard, too," Steve said, "go check on her, Danny. Make sure she's drinking something. Malia said she was still dehydrated."

"Riley, my friend, is just fine," Danny said. "She has both Catherine and Kono keeping an eye on her, not to mention Chin, who may I remind you, is the next best thing to a doctor, since he sleeps with one. You are deflecting."

Steve threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light in an effort to thwart the headache steadily building behind his eyes. Too late. He groaned.

"Babe, what is it?" Danny asked, "Headache?"

"Concussion," Steve mumbled. Danny recognized that particular brand of mumble, and dashed for the trashcan. He had it next to the sofa in the nick of time, as Steve brought up that morning's coffee and then continued to dry-heave.

"Okay, that's it. You have two choices: I can call Malia to come here, or I can have Chin swing by and bring her to your house after her shift."

"Danny," Steve protested weakly.

"We need to get her to check on Riley, too," Danny played his trump card.

"Fine," Steve huffed.

* * *

Malia pronounced Steve still concussed, and she re-wrapped his ribs and re-dressed the burns.

"You need to acknowledge your limits before you exceed them, Steve," she chided gently.

"I'm fine, Malia, but thank you," he said politely, awkwardly reclining on a stack of pillows Malia had placed on the bed behind him.

She had the audacity to laugh out loud. "Oh, so that's why Chin called me to tell me that you were groaning on the sofa with nausea and vomiting? That's sounds very fine."

Steve decided that argument was futile. "How's Riley?" he asked, instead.

"Honestly? Worried about you, mostly. Blaming herself for everything. Confused. Still barely acknowledging that she has suffered. In short, she's exactly like you, Steve, and that worries me."

"Why?"

"Because you, my friend, are a gifted leader and a loyal friend, but you have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. I know what made you that way – your father, Joe White, and the United States Navy. I have no idea what could possibly have happened to make young Riley the same."

Steve sighed. "Well, Malia, the commonality in that equation is Joe White, and if I can find him, you can be sure I will ask him."

Catherine saw Malia and Chin to the door. "Thank you again, guys, for coming over."

"I'm sure you could have managed, Catherine," Malia said, "but Danny was quite alarmed. I'm happy to help. Please try to convince Steve to get some rest tonight, okay? And keep encouraging fluids for Riley. She's recovering from the dehydration but we need to keep flushing the drugs out of her system."

"Will do, Malia, and thanks again," Catherine said, turning to go back inside the house.

Steve didn't realize he had drifted off to sleep until Catherine slipped gently into the bed next to him.

He started, then relaxed as she gently brushed her cool hand over his forehead.

"Riley?" he asked.

"Following doctor's orders and resting comfortably; drinking herbal tea and taking a mandatory three hour break from looking at screens. She still has a mild concussion. Grover still has a detail here. Steve, do you think WoFat is going to show up on the island, make a play for you or Riley again?"

Steve sighed. "Cath, I don't know what to think. And honestly, with WoFat, having a detail here is like a deadbolt lock. It keeps someone from opening the door on the first turn, but they can always just kick it down."

"Hmm," Catherine murmured, "that must be why Danny is sleeping on the sofa again tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if he's reading Riley a bedtime story."

"Seriously?" Steve grinned.

"You have built an amazing team, Steve. I don't say it often but I want you to know – you're doing good work here. I know sometimes you miss the SEALs, miss intelligence . . . but you're clearly needed here."

Steve ducked his head. Raised by a no-nonsense law enforcement father and a teacher with exacting standards, then by the US Navy, he wasn't accustomed to praise. Catherine gently cupped his face, avoiding the worst of the bruises, and dropped a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks, Cath," he said. "I hate that this is how you're spending your leave – caught up in the middle of this nightmare."

"Hey, sailor," she said lightly, "no place else I'd rather be. Except maybe, you know, out to dinner or something."

"I really, really do owe you a nice dinner out," he replied, chuckling, then wincing.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. Let's go rescue Riley from Danny, for a bit, shall we? Before Danny thinks something crazy, like that I'm your girlfriend or something. Oh, don't look at me like a deer caught in the headlights. You don't call me your girlfriend; whatever. What we have between us works for us, Steve, we don't have to define it."

Steve allowed Catherine to help pull him to his feet; and then he pulled her into her arms and kissed her soundly.

"What was that for?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"That was me remembering how damn lucky I am to have you in my life, Catherine," he said, framing her face in his hands, and kissing her once again for good measure.

* * *

"Danny," Riley said, in exasperation. She was standing in the kitchen, fussing with the coffee maker. Danny had pointed resolutely to the tea kettle and the box of herbal tea left by Malia.

"I have strict instructions from the good doctor to keep you hydrated with quality, caffeine free, healing herbal tea. Coffee is none of those things, young lady." Danny was in full-on mother hen mode.

"Look, Danny," Riley said, shifting her weight to one side, crossing her arms, and an edge of affectionate frustration in her voice. "It's bulletproof coffee; you drink it for enhanced brain function; it works on a cellular level."

"Oh ho, now, does that sound familiar," Danny began, as he watched Riley turn and scoop some butter into her mug. She poured the coffee over it, then turned, leaned against the counter, and raised her mug in salute.

"You should try it, it's good for you," she smirked.

It was the smirk that finally did it. That cocky, self-assured smirk. He'd seen it a hundred times in the last couple of years, often just before dodging bullets.

"Danny, what's wrong?" Riley asked, alarmed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Kono said it was because you'd both been trained by Joe White," he blurted out.

"What? You're not making much sense."

Danny backpedaled. "Oh, just similarities between you and Steve. Did Joe teach you to put butter in your coffee? Because that's disgusting."

"What's disgusting, Danno?" Steve said as he entered the kitchen. "Oh, coffee . . . "

Danny watched as Steve scooped butter into his mug, topped it off with coffee, turned, leaned against the counter next to Riley, and raised his mug in salute.

Danny pulled out his cell phone. "Gonna text my little monkey goodnight," he said, as he silently clicked a picture of Steve and Riley.

* * *

Malia smiled when she heard the BonJovi text tone. "What does Danny have to say?" she asked Chin.

"Malia, you are a gift, you know that?" Chin turned to the beautiful woman snuggled next to him on the couch. "You stop after a full day of work to check on my team, and then you don't complain when they text me a mere . . ." he checked his watch, ". . . thirty minutes later." He sighed and leaned to reach the cell phone on the coffee table. "He's probably just worried about Steve's blood pressure or something."

He thumbed the security code into his phone, still smiling as he opened the text from Danny.

Malia felt him tense as soon as he read the message.

"Chin, what is it, is everything okay?" she asked, worry evident in her tone.

He wordlessly handed her the phone. She glanced at the text message first.

 _Am I crazy, or do you see it too?_

She looked at the picture of Steve and Riley, slouched against the counter in Steve's kitchen. Both smiling at Danny with the same fond smile . . . their long legs crossed at the ankle . . .

She looked at Chin, who had gone pale beneath his tan.

"Chin? Tell me what you see."

Chin shook his head. "I don't know how I missed it. I knew Steve as a teenager, just a few years younger than Riley. The other day, I saw Danny pointed out a similarity in their stance to me and Kono; Steve and Riley were standing in front of a plasma looking at a file . . . I remember thinking it was amusing that Grover's wife had picked out clothes for Riley that were similar to Steve's . . . how did I miss this?"

"You think it's more than coincidence, then; obviously Danny does."

"Malia, it's uncanny. It can't be coincidence. Medically, what do you think the odds are, of two completely unrelated people having such similar stances?" Chin asked. "And look at the way they're smiling at Danny . . ."

"Honestly? It was the cheekbones and eyelashes that I noticed," Malia said slowly.

Chin studied the picture on his phone again. "I can't really see that closely in the picture," he said.

Malia looked at him steadily.

Realization dawned on him. "You saw . . . when?"

"At the hospital."

"You didn't say anything," Chin protested.

"Chin, it was pure speculation; also, until one of you brought it up, it was a borderline patient confidentiality issue," Malia explained.

"But Riley gave you permission to share her information."

"Riley did, yes. Not Steve. Chin, sweetheart, please don't be angry. I had every confidence that you or Danny would pick up on what I believe is some sort of familial connection."

Chin stared at the photo. "Malia, if Riley and Steve are related somehow . . . and I can't even wrap my brain around the possibilities . . . this changes everything. And if Joe White knew . . . I'm not sure how Steve will handle this level of betrayal."

"What are you going to do?" Malia asked.

"Hell if I know," Chin sighed. He texted Danny.

 _I see it. Malia, too. What next?_

 _Nothing tonight? Steve is still in rough shape. Riley too. Tomorrow? We approach Steve. Go from there._

 _Agreed. Mahalo._

If Steve hadn't been so exhausted and concussed, he would have noticed Danny's attempts to hide his growing scrutiny. Danny carefully schooled his features into an expression that would be appropriate for texting with his daughter.

"Monkey says goodnight, Uncle Steve," he smiled at Steve. "Speaking of beautiful young ladies saying goodnight, Riley, I have already risked Malia's wrath by not restraining you from coffee. Please don't get me in any further trouble, and go get some rest, yeah?"

Riley smiled tiredly. "I could argue but sleep sounds good." She looked a bit hesitantly between Steve and Danny. "Um, Danny, I know you planned to sleep on the sofa, but . . . " she paused.

Steve wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders. "Riley, it's fine. Danny gripes and complains about the sofa hurting his back . . . I don't know why he insists on sleeping here . . . must be that he loves the sound of the ocean at night. Anyway, the bed in Mary's room is made up, nice and comfy, Danny can sleep there; he crashed there the other morning. Danny has an uncanny way of making himself at home here. I'd beat him into the bathroom if I were you, though, he doesn't understand the concept of Navy showers."

Riley nodded gratefully, moving to put her mug in the sink. "Okay, goodnight then and . . . thanks."

After she left the kitchen, Danny looked quizzically at Steve. "What was that about?"

"Her second night here, after she found the picture . . . she wanted to sleep on the sofa. Said it helped to be in a more open room, more light coming in from outside," Steve explained.

Danny ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, man."

"Yeah, it's pretty much been her only concession to what she's been through."

"Everything okay, boys?" Catherine said as she came into the kitchen. She fixed a glass of water, frowning at the mug in Steve's hand, and fixing one for him, too.

"Yeah, just getting everyone settled for the night," Danny replied. "I'm taking Mary's room."

"You'll keep an ear out for Riley, yeah?" Steve asked.

"Of course," Danny replied. "Catherine has her hands full with you . . . oh, for the love of . . . wipe that smirk off your face, Steven, you have a filthy, filthy mind."

* * *

Danny was halfway down the hall before Riley could call out a second time. He wanted to give Steve and Catherine every possible chance to rest . . . they had no idea what can of worms he and Chin were going to have to open tomorrow.

He might have known, though, that Steve would be on high alert, at usual.

They reached the living room at the same time, just as Riley sat bolt upright on the sofa and let out another hoarse shout.

"No! Stop! Come back . . . I'll tell you anything! Stop, you're killing him . . . "

Steve's longer stride put him at the sofa just as Riley thrashed violently; unfortunately, he wasn't quite fast enough to keep her from tipping off the sofa and bumping her head on the coffee table.

"Whoa, there, it's okay, I've got you," he said, gently grabbing her hands as she struck out at him, still disoriented.

"Steve?" she asked, one hand gripping his bicep, and the other going to the freshly opened cut over her eye.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?" he asked.

Danny had turned on a dim lamp. "I'll get the kit from the kitchen," he said, noting the fresh bleeding from Riley's face. "Hey, Catherine," he said, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, tying a robe around her. "It's okay, Riley had a bad dream, opened up that cut over her eye. We've got it."

Catherine followed Danny into the kitchen. "Steve was already awake, I'm sure," she said. "He's holding up well, all things considered, but he's not exactly sleeping peacefully."

Danny shook his head. "I don't even want to know what goes on in that head of his. And Riley . . . whatever they did to Steve, she heard all of it. As soon as we know it's safe to do so, we need to get her to talk to someone . . . really talk to someone who can help her."

Catherine nodded. "I'll talk to Malia, see if we can get something set up."

"Thanks, babe," Danny said. "Go on up, I'll send your not-boyfriend back as soon as I can."

Danny took the kit back into the living room. Steve was gently pulling the half-attached steri-strips off Riley's cut.

"Let's get this fixed up, okay? Can't have Malia fussing at me for not taking good care of you," he said.

"It's okay," Riley protested. "I can fix it myself."

"Ah, but why," Danny interjected, "when you can have a Navy special? Here you go, SuperSEAL, what can I hand you?"

"Gauze pad, steri-strips," Steve said, pulling the last damaged strip free.

Steve put pressure on the wound until the bleeding stopped.

"Riley," he said, as he applied a fresh bandage, "look at me. WoFat slowed me down but I walked away. Okay? My friend Jenna gave me something to pick the lock. I got loose, and climbed out a window. If I had known you were there, though, I never would have left you behind. I want you to know that. I would have come for you."

Riley shook her head. "That would have been stupid. Your objective should have been to get free. For all you knew I would have been a liability."

Steve's hands stilled, and Danny stared in amazement.

"Riley, babe," Danny said, "why would you say that?"

"It's true. Steve knows it's true. The mission comes first. Steve's mission was exactly as it should have been: to get away."

Danny's eyes narrowed in anger. "Who taught you that – Joe?"

Riley blinked sleepily. "No. Olivia. She said I had to understand that people had to take care of themselves first; that I couldn't expect anyone to help me or rescue me. That it was important that I understand that there were always larger concerns at risk than any one individual."

Steve shook his head. "Riley, I don't understand why she said that, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: you can always expect us to do everything in our power to help you. You got that?"

* * *

 _Undisclosed location_

" _Of course they're going to figure it out. I'll be surprised if they haven't already. Why?" Joe laughed bitterly. "Because I trained both of them, that's why. The only advantage we have is that both of them will be so busy trying to find me, and trying to solve the riddle of Shelburne, that it may take them a while to see what's right in front of their eyes. Now that you're moved, I just have to get back there, get Riley away before they figure out the identity of Shelburne. We can't afford for her to have that information; I may have trained her but she's not Steve. She'll break."_

* * *

"I'm really sorry, about everything."

Catherine turned to face Riley as she came into the kitchen.

"I mean, this is your leave, you came to take care of Steve, and he's wearing himself out with my problems . . . I'm sorry," Riley said. "I could go. I've been taught to be very self-sufficient, you know."

Catherine poured a mug of coffee and handed it to Riley.

"Riley, none of us know each other very well yet, but there's something you need to understand. Steve's team is family. It's a family that quickly extends to accept and protect people. You and I . . . we may not be Five-O, but we're accepted and valued all the same. Riley, they pulled you out of North Korea; you'd been tortured for the same information as Steve. If that doesn't make you family, I don't know what does, okay?"

Riley smiled and sipped her coffee. "What makes you family, Catherine?" she teased gently.

Catherine's eyes twinkled. "Honestly? Probably my access to classified information and satellite tasking."

Riley gave a lopsided grin and tipped her mug in salute, and Catherine laughed, wondering why the gesture seemed somehow very familiar.

"So, you can task satellites; who tasked Frank?" Riley asked.

"Frank?" Catherine asked. "The pilot? That definitely wasn't me."

Danny came into the kitchen in search of coffee. "Who's tasking satellites, it's too early," he complained.

"Danny," Riley asked, as a connection nagged at the edge of her mind. "How did you know to go to Frank to get in to North Korea? He's completely off the grid. If Catherine didn't find him, then whose contact was he? Steve's, or Joe's?"

Danny frowned. "I don't think Steve knew . . . it had to be Joe."

"Well, that's it then," Riley said. "Get Steve, hurry, get me to a good computer."

"Wait, whoa, whoa, slow down," Danny said, "what are you talking about?"

"FRANK, Danny," Riley said, grabbing her boots and shoving them onto her feet. "Catherine, if you didn't contact Frank, and if Frank didn't know Steve . . . then the only connection between Frank and all of this is Joe."

"Right," Danny said slowly, fatigue slowing his thought process.

"Guys," Riley said urgently, as Steve came into the kitchen. "I lived with Frank for four years. Joe hid me with Frank from the time Olivia came up missing, to the time he came and moved me to Tokyo. Frank has to know what's going on."

"Damn it," Steve exclaimed. "How did we overlook that?"

"We're so focused on Joe and Shelburne, and WoFat; besides, this is what Frank does best – he stays so far under the radar. That's why Joe moved me there to begin with," Riley said, "Neither Joe nor Frank knew that I had been taken from Tokyo to North Korea by WoFat; but Frank has to know why Joe took me from Tokyo to South Korea five years ago. Frank can tell us what Joe apparently has been trying to keep secret."

"Frank was furious," Danny remembered. "He just about took Joe's head off when Chin carried you out of that tree line."

Steve furrowed his brow, trying to remember. It was blurry, but he had a vague memory of Frank yelling at Joe, and then later Frank reminding him to take care of his sister. Mary; he needed to be sure she was okay.

"Okay, so Frank is our best lead," Steve said, grabbing his gun and badge. "Let's get on it. Danny, you drive. I need to call and check on Mary."

"As if I'd let you drive, you're still concussed," Danny grumbled.

The guys bounded out of the kitchen and out the door. They were halfway to the car before Steve turned back, sheepishly.

"Um, Catherine," he said, "Could you . . . "

Catherine laughed and waved him off. "Go. I'll bring Riley."

* * *

"Mary, can't a big brother just call and check on his little sister? Oh, both of them . . . Danny and Chin. . . oh, and Kono . . . all called you . . ." Steve glanced sideways at Danny. "Well, yeah, because things got a little dicey here . . . no, I'm fine. Yes, I'm fine, I don't even have stitches or anything. No, you absolutely don't need to come. Really? Okay, that's actually perfect, yeah, stay there. Well, I mean, if he's a good guy, Mare, then why not? I am supportive of you, Mare. Well, because I don't want you to be taken advantage of. No, not all of the guys you date have been good guys, but if he's a Marine then that's in his favor. Okay, take care. Love you, too, Mare."

Steve hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes.

"So, how's Mary?" Danny asked cautiously.

"She's good. New boyfriend is at Barstow; she's living with him," Steve said.

"And normally you don't condone this behavior, but . . ." Danny said.

"Yeah, right now I'm quite happy that's she's moved in with her new Marine boyfriend, living in base housing, okay Danny? Because she should be safer there than wandering around Los Angeles," Steve snapped.

"Hey, babe, don't take my head off. I'm with you. One less thing for you to worry about."

"Sorry, Danny," Steve apologized, "I'm just . . . I can't believe I overlooked the whole connection with Frank. We've wasted over forty-eight hours."

"Look, we all overlooked it, Steve, and you have a concussion to blame. Chin, Kono, and I – we were there. We should have picked up on it."

"It's like Joe knew, somehow, that we would be distracted," Steve said. "And I don't know Frank, but he clearly knows about me, I assume from Joe. He told me to take good care of my sister, so he knows about Mary."

Danny was silent. He had planned to talk to Chin about how best to approach Steve with their suspicion, but maybe this was a good an opening as he would get.

"Steve," he said, hesitantly, "I need you to take a look at something, and I want you to keep an open mind."

"Okay, Danny," Steve said, curious.

"I mean it, you can't freak out," Danny continued.

"Now I'm worried. What?"

"Pick up my phone," Danny gestured to his phone, lying on the console between the seats.

Steve picked up Danny's phone and thumbed in the security code.

"Okay, that's disturbing, how long have you known the code for my phone?" Danny complained.

"Shut up, Danny, just a little longer than you've known mine – don't deny it," Steve said, "what am I looking at?"

"Open the pictures. Look at the most recent."

Steve clicked on the icon and studied the photo.

"Talk to me, babe," Danny said, unnerved at Steve's completely uncharacteristic silence and stillness.

"Danny, I . . ." Steve looked at the picture again. "What am I supposed to see?"

Danny glanced over. Steve's hands were shaking as he gripped the phone.

"Steve, I think the resemblance is uncanny. The similarities in your stance, your gestures . . . from an objective point of view, if we were studying this as a surveillance photo, I think we would speculate that the similarities can't be coincidental. So . . . I am wondering if you see a resemblance strong enough to make you suspect a connection between you and Riley that goes beyond Joe White."

Steve remained silent.

"Steve?" Danny questioned hesitantly.

"Who else?" Steve asked, hoarsely.

"Who else . . .what are you asking?"

"Who else has seen this photo? Just you?" Steve asked.

"No," Danny confessed. "I wanted to know if I was losing my mind. I sent it to Chin. He knew you as a teenager, I wanted to see what he thought. He would have remembered you from when you were just a few years younger than Riley is now."

Steve took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. What do we do?"

"Well, babe, I think we talk to Chin, okay, and get his take, since he knew your parents, goes back in your family history a bit. And then we . . . I don't know, Steve. I don't know what we do."

By the time Catherine and Riley arrived at headquarters, Steve, Danny, and Chin had disappeared into Steve's office. The door was closed and the blinds were pulled.

"I have no idea," Kono said, casting worried glances toward the office. "They didn't say a word to me, just walked in there together."

"Weird," Riley said. "But we have something else to go on; something we overlooked completely: let's fire this baby up and see what we can find on Frank."

"Of course," Kono said, smacking her forehead with her palm. "You lived with him, right? And wow, was he ever furious with Joe. How did we not think of this?"

"We are so focused on Joe, Olivia – Doris, and Shelburne," Riley said. "Plus, Frank is completely off the grid. His name wouldn't have popped up in any of our searches. I'm pretty sure he's officially listed as missing in action."

Catherine, Kono, and Riley were so focused on typing furiously on various searches that they didn't notice the agent standing in the squad room at first.

"Ahem," the man cleared his throat.

"Can we help you?" Kono asked.

"I'm here for Commander McGarrett," he said, "Agent Fielding."

"Well," Kono replied, glancing toward Steve's office, "He's in a closed door meeting. Can I tell him what it's about?"

"No, you can not. I need to speak with him immediately."

"Agent Fielding . . . what agency?" Kono demanded.

He flashed a badge that Kono didn't recognize, but Catherine's eyes widened.

"I'll go get him," she said immediately.

Riley and Kono exchanged confused glances as Catherine strode purposefully toward Steve's office and knocked on the door. She went in for a moment and then came out with Danny and Chin.

"You can speak with him now, Agent Fielding," she said, gesturing toward Steve's office.

After the man closed the door behind him, Catherine found herself the focus of four sets of curious eyes.

"Special Activities Division," she said, grimly.

Ten minutes later, an enraged Steve emerged from his office with Agent Fielding on his heels.

"Well, I don't give a flying fuck," he yelled. Danny raised his eyebrows; he suspected that Steve's time in the Navy had enriched his vocabulary, but the SEAL was such a model of self-control and restraint that he'd rarely proven that theory.

"You will follow orders, and as for these . . . " Agent Fielding started.

Steve cut him off. "These people are my team and they follow my orders, not yours."

"Lieutenant Rollins is not on your team, and neither is -"

Steve whirled around on him, drawing himself up to his full imposing height. "Catherine Rollins is here on leave, along with this civilian, and they are at the office on a social call, planning a shopping day with their friend Kono, who happens to be part of my team. There's nothing to see here, Agent Fielding, so I suggest you leave."

Riley noticed Kono very discreetly tap a corner of the smart table.

Agent Fielding sneered at Steve, and crossed over to the console. "Shopping, really? Then how do you explain this?" he said, dramatically gesturing toward the plasma.

The team held their breath and looked as . . . a listing of specialty shops appeared on the screen. Agent Fielding flicked his wrist, rapidly scrolling through several pages of files . . .of spa packages, restaurants, and day trips.

He turned back to Steve, who was barely concealing his smirk. "I'm warning you, McGarrett, you will cease and desist as ordered."

"And I'm warning you, Fielding, you will leave me and my team alone."

"The governor can't protect you from everything, McGarrett," Fielding warned.

Steve spoke very quietly. "And if you threaten my people again, there is no power on the face of this earth that will protect you, Fielding."

Agent Fielding opened his mouth to say something more, but then thought better of it as the six other people in the room adopted threatening stances. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, the agent turned and walked away.

"Okay, what the hell was that all about?" Danny demanded. "And nice cover, Kono; how long have you and Steve been waiting to pull that one off?"

"An agency that we answer to has demanded that we cease and desist all inquiries into the whereabouts of Joe White." Steve said. "And since the whole IA fiasco."

"What agency?" Chin asked.

Steve glanced at Catherine, who nodded. "The existence of the agency is public knowledge, after all."

"Special Activities Division," Steve said. "Joint operations between the CIA and SEAL teams. Goes back to Vietnam."

"So, that's it? We're just going to stop looking for Joe?" Chin asked.

"Like hell I will – I'm a civilian," Riley exclaimed.

"We're not going to go through any more official channels looking for Joe," Steve said, "no – wait, let me finish – we are, however, going to follow the one glaring lead that we've overlooked until today: we're going to talk to Frank." Steve paused and took a deep breath. "There's something else that I need to take care of first, though. Riley, could you come in my office?"

* * *

 _Tokyo_

" _Should I start packing and loading the supplies?"_

" _No rush," WoFat smiled. "We don't touch her until she knows the identity of Shelburne. My plan is working perfectly so far, no need to rush it."_

* * *

Ten minutes later, Riley emerged from Steve's office, looking pale and shaken as she made a beeline for the lady's room.

"Danny, what on earth is going on?" Kono demanded.

"Give her a minute, okay, Kono?" Steve said, coming out of his office. He didn't look much better than Riley.

"Did you all manage to uncover anything on Frank?" he asked Catherine and Kono.

"No, other than what Riley suspected – he's listed officially as missing in action. No record of him serving with Joe; they never crossed paths in an official capacity. Absolutely nothing on Frank after 1970."

Riley came back into the squad room.

"You okay?" Steve asked quietly. Riley nodded and looked at Frank's file on the screen.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Nothing official, apparently," Catherine said. "This is the best we could do, even with my security clearance."

"You may as well put the other picture up, Steve," Riley said. "It's a bit ridiculous to have any secrets at this point, don't you think?"

"You're sure?" Steve asked.

"Oh for crying out loud. You're gonna tell me that Chin is going to keep this from Kono, and you're going to keep it from Catherine? Don't be absurd. Everyone's stressed out enough as it is."

Steve raised his hands in surrender.

"Um, guys?" Kono asked.

Steve nodded to Danny, who laid his phone down on the smart table. The picture of Steve and Riley leaning against Steve's counter was in display on the large screen in an instant.

"Oh," Catherine said quietly. "Wow, that's . . . wow."

Kono looked at Danny. "Yeah, I see it now, Danny."

Riley kicked the floor awkwardly with her boot.

The door opened and Max entered, his white lab coat flapping behind him.

"Commander McGarrett, I came as quickly as possible," he said. "Who am I swabbing?"

"Max, hello, nice to see you are as abrupt and inappropriate as ever," said Danny.

Steve gestured toward Riley. "Max, this is Riley Patterson. I need you to run her DNA against mine, please."

"Certainly, Commander," Max replied, pulling a swab out of his lab coat. "Ms. Patterson, this will take just one moment, I just need to swab the inside of your cheek."

Riley nodded. Max continued talking as he took the sample, "So Commander, are we running a standard paternity test or –"

Riley almost bit the swab in half.

"Whoa! Wait, what?!" Steve exclaimed. "No way in hell, Max, what?"

"Paternity," Max explained, as if to a very young child. "A test to see if you are the father –"

"I know what a paternity test is!" Steve interrupted. "What makes you think that's – "

"Well, it would appear that Riley is in her late teens or early twenties."

"Right, so?"

"And you are in your mid- to late- thirties."

"Exactly," Steve said, exasperated.

"So, a teen romance could very easily result in you having offspring this age," Max stated bluntly.

"That's just . . . no, Max, that's – just run the damn DNA. Tell us what you find, okay?" Steve said, rubbing his eyes.

"As you wish, Commander," Max said, completely unperturbed.

The team stood looking at Max's retreating form, a bit shell-shocked. The awkward silence was broken by a giggle, and five heads swiveled to look at Riley.

She tried to stifle the next giggle, but it just came out as a very undignified snort.

"What?" she said. "Oh come on, you have to admit that's kind of funny." She paused. "Dad."

Kono broke next.

"Oh, brah, the look on your face," she leaned against the smart table, overcome with laughter. "I only wish we had a picture."

Danny, Chin, and Catherine looked worriedly at Steve, who was trying his best to glare at them. The slight twitch of his lips gave him away, though, and he shook his head with a small laugh.

"Okay, well, I'm very glad to be the subject of the comic relief," he said wryly.

"Well, come on, Steve, I mean . . . I did know you when you were in high school," Chin said. "You were the quarterback of the football team, after all. Very popular with the girls, if I remember correctly."

Riley gave another snort, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"What? I really was a catch," Steve insisted.

"Oh, I have no doubt," Catherine chimed in.

Danny smiled benevolently and Steve groaned. He just knew that his partner was storing up a host of snarky comments, to be rolled out at any opportunity in the future.

"You okay, there, Riley?" Danny asked, noticing that Riley's shoulders were still shaking with laughter as her hands covered her . . . 'Okay', he thought to himself, 'not laughing'.

Danny went to Riley and gently pulled her head down onto his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame. "Shh, babe, it's okay. It's a lot to take in, yeah?"

Riley nodded mutely.

"Let's take a break, go in my office, how's that sound?" he asked. She nodded against his shoulder again.

"Danny?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"Just give us a few, okay?" Danny said, as he steered Riley into his office.

He settled her on the sofa and grabbed a box of Hello Kitty tissues from his desk drawer. She smiled through her tears at the design on the box. "Hello Kitty. Wildly popular in Japan," she said, taking one and blowing her nose.

"Here, too," Danny agreed, rubbing her back gently. "My daughter, Grace, had a terrible cold a few weeks ago. She ended up here one day when I had to pick her up from school. Kono ran to the drug store and brought back an arsenal."

"Kono's pretty amazing," Riley said.

"That she is," Danny nodded. "We are lucky to have her. I put odds on her sneaking some coffee in here for you in just a few minutes.

Riley smiled.

"There we go, that's better," Danny said, smiling back.

"Sorry, I'm just . . . I don't think those stupid drugs are out of my system yet, this is really unlike me; although it's a little overwhelming, to go from being Moonbeam O'Riley, foster kid, to . . . " Riley shrugged, not even sure how to finish her sentence.

Steve knocked on the door, and Danny waved him in.

"I come bearing coffee," Steve said, "courtesy of Kono."

"See, what'd I tell you?" Danny said, as Riley gratefully accepted the steaming cup.

"Riley, I'm so incredibly sorry, for everything you're being put through," Steve said, sitting on the edge of Danny's desk. "I just don't know any way to sort through this, to protect you, to give you some sort of resolution – but to keep on until we find some answers. I think Frank may be the key, if he's willing to talk to us. When we were getting on the plane, he told me that I deserved answers from Joe." Steve paused. "He also told me to take good care of my sister."

Danny's head shot up at that.

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding to Danny. "Remember? I assumed he was talking about Mary. Then when you showed me that picture . . . that's when it hit me. I think Frank knows."

"So how do we get in touch with Frank?" Danny asked.

Riley shook her head. "You don't. You want to talk to Frank? Better book a flight."

"There has to be another way," Danny said.

Riley and Steve looked at each other. Riley shrugged and nodded her head. Steve nodded back.

"Okay, now you're just creeping me out," complained Danny.

"We should plan on leaving tomorrow night. Danny, can you and Chin pull up the coordinates from your last excursion into Korea?" Steve asked.

"Um, babe, this is a colossally bad idea. This is probably one of your worst ideas. You have no business flying anywhere, much less into Korea, on a wild goose chase."

"It's the only solid lead we have," Riley said. "Danny, this could answer so many questions. We don't have to go across the border; Frank always stays below the DMZ . . . well, unless he's going to fetch people out."

"Riley, I can't let you fly into Korea and then hike around looking for Frank!" Steve exclaimed. "No, everyone has risked enough. I'll go in alone."

"No way –"

"Oh, no, I don't think so –"

Danny and Riley were talking over each other.

"Stop, both of you," Steve commanded. "I'm just going in to talk to Frank, try to get some answers about Joe, and Riley, and Doris. We aren't launching a mission. Just an interview. Stand down."

"You're not going without me," Riley demanded.

"I'm not taking you with me," Steve retorted.

"I'm not part of Five-O and I'm not one of your SEALs, Steve. You can't order me around."

"You – " Steve cut off short.

Riley and Danny paused, waiting for him to continue.

"What?" Riley said, impatiently.

"You – you reminded me so much of Mary, just then," Steve said softly.

"Mary; your sister?" Riley asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh." Riley smiled self-consciously. "That's – wow. Okay. Um, speaking of which, how long will that DNA test take?"

"Max said he would have preliminary likelihood by the end of the day; all the markers should be back by tomorrow morning," Steve answered.

"Okay," Riley said, studying her boots again.

"Hey," Steve said, crossing the short space between them, and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. When she didn't look up, he tucked his fingers under her chin and turned her eyes up to meet his. Riley wasn't short, by any means, but he still had several inches on her.

"Riley," he said firmly, "the DNA test and talking to Frank – it's to give us some answers. But I promised you, on that plane out of Korea, that my team and I would protect you. Nothing is going to make me change that promise, you got me?"

Riley nodded.

"I mean it, kid," Steve said. "We've got your back."

"Okay, Steve," Riley said, looking into his eyes intently, "then let me have yours."

Steve glanced at Danny, who just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"We'll talk about it," Steve said. "No promises. And Malia has to clear you to fly."

"I'm not nearly as injured as you are," Riley retorted. "Who's going to clear you?"

"I clear me."

"Okay, Superman," Danny interrupted. "Time enough to work that out. Let's go see what we can dig up, so that you're not flying blind if you do go try to find Frank."

"When we go and find Frank," Riley corrected emphatically.

Within an hour, the team had compiled all of the available information on Frank – it was sparse, to say the least. Some of it had been redacted; the helpful bits obscured. Catherine and Steve both tried accessing the information using their security clearance, to no avail.

"Careful, Steve," Catherine warned, as he typed in several layers of passcode. "The last thing we need is Special Activities Division coming back over here."

Danny frowned and added some more notes to the whiteboard.

Riley studied the files on Frank. "I can probably get through this. And I know I can get to files on Joe that you haven't found yet. But, if you need me to avoid this – whatzit – Special Activities thingy – you're going to need to get me to a great computer that is in absolutely no way associated with any of the IP addresses of Five-O. I can tell from this line of code right here that everything you do is being monitored." She typed rapidly and pulled up a screen filled with ones and zeros.

"Binary?" Steve said, tilting his head to look at the scrolling numbers.

"Wow," Catherine added. "I've seen something similar when I was stationed at the Pentagon. How did you even . . . ?"

"Don't ask," Riley said. "And I'm closing it now in case they peek through the firewall I put up. Honestly, anything you don't want them to see – don't put through this system, period. I can block it, or take it down, but at this point, I'm pretty sure that would create a lot of suspicion. It would be best if I could disable it in fragments, build in a filter and a reflector so that they think they are seeing your activity, when what they're really seeing is something not exactly your activity, mirrored on similar identical sites."

Even Chin blinked at her, speechless.

"Um, the classes at University of Tokyo are really, really good," Riley explained.

Chin raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I don't think freshmen level computer classes are that good."

"I may have picked up a few things outside of class," Riley offered.

Kono and Steve grinned broadly.

Danny groaned, "Oh, great, now the adrenaline twins are intrigued. Lovely."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear any of that," Catherine said.

"Good idea," Steve answered. "Okay, so we need to get Riley out of here and to a secure computer."

Chin smiled. "I think it would be nice to get Riley out for some fresh air, Steve. Maybe take her to see some sights, grab some shrimp to go . . . visit your friend Jerry."

"Perfect," Steve said, pointing at Chin. He turned and noticed Danny finishing some notes on the large whiteboard. "Whatcha got, Danno?"

"Well, since hopefully the super secret government agency that has even the super secret SEAL and his super secret girlfriend spooked – which makes me incredibly nervous, if you must know – is not monitoring my humble whiteboard, I took the liberty of brainstorming," Danny answered.

Riley grinned. "Very old-school – I like it."

"Thank you, grasshopper."

Steve studied the notes for a few moments.

Danny had drawn a series of Venn diagrams. In one, the two outer circles contained the names Joe and Frank, with Riley in the center. In another, more complex diagram of three circles, were the names Doris, Steve, and Riley, with the name Joe in the center. Finally, in another set of three, were the names WoFat, Steve, and Riley, with the name Shelburne at the center . . . and the names Joe and Doris with big question marks next to them.

"Wow, Danny, that's actually . . . very helpful," he said.

"I am a detective," Danny observed dryly. "This is how we do it in Jersey."

"So, Joe's the connection," said Catherine, looking at the board, "and Doris is the completely unknown factor."

"Yeah, WoFat is looking for some of the same answers we are," Steve said, "so we need to find them before he does."

"Which means WoFat is quite possibly standing in front of a board just like this," said Kono grimly, "coming to the same conclusions. What if these same names are on his radar?"

Riley blanched. "I've put Frank in danger," she said quietly.

"We'll get to him, Riley," Steve said. "Are you sure you can't think of any way to contact him? To warn him?"

Riley shook her head. "When you get me to a safe computer I can try, but that was the whole point with Frank – that's why Joe took me there. It's going to be hard enough to find him in country. He doesn't leave an electronic footprint, not at all. But, I might be able to tell if anyone else is searching for him."

"Okay," Steve said, "Chin and Kono – take Riley over to Jerry's. Get some lunch, yeah? That way you can assure Malia that we're taking good care of her patient."

"Former patient," Riley waved her hand dismissively. Danny thought he recognized the focused determination in her eyes.

"Danny," Steve said, "You and I are going to go pay a little visit to . . ." Steve paused. "Catherine, I think in the interest of plausible deniability, I better not finish that sentence. But could you stay here, make sure that Agent Fielding doesn't come snooping around while we're gone?"

He waved at Chin and Kono as they left the room, then added quietly to Catherine. "And, would you let me know when Max has the results?"

Catherine stood on tiptoe and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve's cheek. "You got it, sailor. Are you okay with this?"

"Yeah, we'll do as much basic recon as we can from here, and then determine who really needs to go try to establish contact with Frank," he said.

"Steve," Catherine shook her head. "That's not really what I meant. Are you okay with the idea that Riley might be your sister?"

Steve rubbed a hand over his eyes. "To be honest, Cath, I haven't really wrapped my brain around it yet. But yeah . . . I don't know how to explain it, but it feels right. Like it's not even that much of a surprise."

"Yeah, well, I bet you Max is still running a paternity test," Danny grinned.

* * *

Chin and Kono stopped at their favorite local stop for four Moco Loco plates to go.

"Smells amazing," Riley commented, as they continued making their way toward Jerry's.

"You will never want to leave the island," Kono grinned. "It's that good."

"Kono, someday that metabolism of yours is going to slow down," Chin warned.

"Brah, don't even," she pouted. "Let me enjoy my calories while I can."

Chin laughed. "Okay, cuz. Well, I'm sure Malia will approve of our choice for Riley, at least. She reminded me this morning that we needed to help her overcome several days without food. This should help."

They pulled up in front of Jerry's unassuming bungalow.

"This is where I'm going to get access to a state-of-the-art computer?" Riley asked dubiously.

"Oh, sistah, you have no idea," Kono grinned at her. "Come, let us introduce you to the event that is Jerry. And eat; let's eat."

* * *

"So, where shall I drive His Majesty?" Danny asked sarcastically, as Steve gingerly eased himself into the passenger seat. "Or is the pleasure of a known destination too much, considering that I am, for once, getting to drive my own car?"

Even while he snarked, Danny reached over and snagged Steve's seat belt and clicked it into place, as he realized that the movement was causing his friend and partner significant discomfort.

"We are heading to Kamekona's," Steve said. "Turn west."

"Ah, buddy, you're concussed. The shrimp truck is east," Danny said.

"We aren't going to get shrimp," Steve grinned.

Danny followed Steve's directions to Kamekona's residence. Their oversized friend lumbered out to meet them, looking around nervously.

"This makes me nervous every time, brah," he said to Steve, "but if it is for a good cause . . . "

"That it is, my friend," Steve said, gripping Kamekona's hand, "that it is. Damsel in distress, you might say."

Kamekona nodded sagely. "And if I play my cards, right, help you haoles out, might I get to meet this damsel?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ah, that remains to be seen," Danny interjected. "I would not get too hopeful, my friend."

"What's a brotha gotta do to get some play around here?" Kamekona complained.

Seeing a glare forming on Steve's face, Danny quickly changed the subject. "So, Steve informs me that you have some . . . inventory that we might . . . borrow," he said.

"Only the finest for my friends," Kamekona said, gesturing expansively toward the trailer.

Steve flung open the roll up door on the trailer. Danny let out a low whistle, and Steve grinned.

"Oh," Danny said, "this is better than Christmas for you, isn't it, Steve?"

"If I'm going to go on another unsanctioned trip overseas, I can't risk exposing Five-O by taking our own gear. Everything has to be clean. Unmarked, untraceable back to Five-O," Steve said.

"Plausible deniability, right?" Danny asked.

Steve nodded. "I'm going to need to go in light; once I land, I'll likely be on foot for who knows how long. And I can't be too obvious. If I look like a commando going in that's going to attract way too much attention."

"Okay, what do I need?" Danny asked, running his hand in admiration over some of the firearms.

"Danny, you can't go," Steve said earnestly. "It's way too risky. You never should have come for me the last time. Not that I don't appreciate it – I do, more than I can ever say. But Danny, what about Gracie? You've got too much to lose, partner. I can't let you risk your life or your career for me. Not again."

"Steve," Danny protested, "you can't possibly go in alone. You have to have someone on your six. You're still nursing broken ribs, for crying out loud."

Steve sighed. He was not unaccustomed to working alone; even during his time with the SEALs, he had been sent on plenty of one-man missions. He had to concede to Danny's point, though, he wasn't at the top of his game.

"I know, Danny," he said, as he carefully selected a few lightweight weapons. "I'm still trying to figure it out. Chin would have been the obvious choice, since he literally could blend in with the locals, but I don't want him to leave Malia."

"Okay, how about Catherine or Kono?" Danny said.

"I'm thinking about it," Steve replied. "Catherine is definitely out – I can't cover for her or protect her if the Navy finds out she went off the reservation. She'd be court-martialed. Kono . . . well, she would blend in with the locals. And she can more than hold her own if we get into a tight situation. If things went sideways, I could conceivably play the card that she was only operating under my orders; protect her career."

Danny sensed there was a hesitation. "But?" he prompted.

"But," Steve answered slowly, "I'm thinking of taking Riley."

Danny looked at him for a long moment. "I don't think that's wise, Steven. She's injured, she's traumatized, whether she admits it or not . . . plus for all we know WoFat is actively searching for her even as we speak. It's like walking around with a target on both of you."

Steve finished putting his selections into the tactical bag and closed the roll door. Waving to Kamekona, he stowed the bag in the back of the Camaro, and once again carefully eased himself into the passenger seat. Danny knew he must still be in considerable pain to consistently avoid driving.

As Danny slid into the driver's seat, he popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of Motrin and a bottle of water.

"Thanks, partner," Steve sighed, as he helped himself to three tablets and swallowed them with a generous swig of water.

"I know, Danny, it's risky taking Riley," he said, returning to their conversation. "But . . . she deserves answers. Frank is going to be difficult to find, but Riley knows the area; more importantly, she knows Frank. He may not trust me; not enough to give me the information I need."

Danny nodded. He had to admit, there was truth in what Steve was saying.

"Plus, Danny . . . I just hate to leave her behind, you know? I mean, I'm pretty sure what this DNA test is going to say," Steve said, glancing at Danny.

"You're thinking she's really your sister, babe?" Danny asked. "You just have a hunch or, what?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Danny," Steve replied. "I mean, the obvious information lines up – her age, apparently my mother raised her, the connection with Joe, the fact that WoFat tracked her down; hell, even WoFat must think she's my sister. But it's more than that. The first time she opened her eyes on that helicopter . . . I felt like I recognized her. I couldn't put my finger on it. And when she yelled at me," Steve smiled, "told me I couldn't boss her around . . . Danny, I swear, she sounded exactly like Mary when we were kids."

Danny smiled. "You definitely had the start of a full-on sibling spat, there, Steve. Of course, in fairness, I've heard Kono yell at you much the same way. You tend to bring that out in people."

Danny watched as Steve smiled, but then his face clouded.

"Damn it, Danny. Do you know what this means?"

'Ah,' Danny thought, 'now it really sinks in.'

"What, buddy?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Danno, my mom . . . she must have been alive. At least for fifteen or sixteen years after . . . if she really was raising Riley, in Japan or wherever . . . until she disappeared again and Joe came and took Riley to Korea. Joe knew. Joe knew everything, Danny – he knew about my mom, about Riley. Why would he lie about this?"

Danny sighed. He had never really trusted Joe – he'd called on him, sure, when the situation demanded it, but it was obvious to Danny that Joe was always holding back.

"Steve," Danny started, hesitantly, "this Special Activities Division . . . "

"Danny. Please don't . . . don't go there, okay?" Steve said, very slowly, and very carefully.

"Okay," Danny nodded. "Catherine?"

"Absolutely not," Steve said. "I would know."

Danny nodded again, and remained silent. Of all the times he had joked with Steve about classified information, he could tell that this time it was safer for all concerned, for him to remain completely in the dark.

"Danny?" Steve said, interrupting Danny's thoughts.

"Yeah, Steve?"

"I've done some hard things, you know, in intelligence and in the SEALs. Just so you know, though, I've always been on the right side. Always, Danny," he said, earnestly.

"I know, babe, I know," Danny assured him.

"I don't want anyone on the team to doubt that. Not ever, Danny. And not Gracie."

"I understand. We would never, never doubt that, Steve," Danny said quietly.

"Not Riley. Danny, she's been betrayed already. I can't do that to her; not now, not ever."

Danny nodded. "And you won't."

Steve sighed as his phone rang. "McGarrett," he answered. "Okay, on our way."

Danny raised his eyebrows.

"Head to Jerry's," Steve instructed.

* * *

Jerry shook his head in amazement. "I'm telling you, Steve, I've never seen anything like it. She's laying down code that I can barely keep up with."

Steve couldn't help it; an expression of fond pride creeped across his face.

"Okay," Riley said, fingers blazing across one of three keyboards she had at her disposal. "I've got nothing on Frank – told you – even the unredacted documents don't give us anything past 1970. However, I cross-matched the coordinates and triangulated, from Tangerine's last known position, to only three other likely positions for Frank. He and that monstrosity of a helicopter can not just blend in seamlessly. There are specific parameters – a landing area large enough, fuel source, and most importantly, a village climate of absolute hatred toward the North Korean and any other overtly anti-American interests."

Steve was impressed. Riley was clearly in her element; there was no trace of the overwhelmed young woman in Danny's office just this morning. His mind was made up in that moment; Riley was going with him to Korea to find Frank.

"Okay, so which village do we try first?" he said.

Riley's hands stilled on the keyboard for just a moment. "We?" she turned and said quietly.

Steve nodded.

"Bukhansan National Park," she said, pulling a file up onto a larger screen.

"A national park doesn't seem very low profile," Chin said.

"Tangerine fits nicely just outside the park; but close enough that there aren't any fly-overs from the US military bases there. Frank took me there after Joe finished . . . well, what he said was my WITSEC training. It's a solid bet that Frank is laying low there right now, just in case he and Tangerine attracted any attention. If someone is looking for an American, Frank doesn't want to upset local villagers. In the national park, he can pass himself off as a tourist if need be. Doesn't endanger any locals. Also, the national park is protected from . . . well, from pretty much everyone and everything. It's primarily an environmental concern. My money is on the park," Riley said confidently.

"What about the other two places?" Steve asked.

Riley grinned. "Honestly? Way, way too cold this time of year. Frank hates the cold. Worst case scenario, if he really thinks someone is on to him, maybe."

"Okay, this works," Steve nodded. "We start there; it's good, we won't draw a lot of attention to ourselves as outsiders, since the park attracts thousands of tourists from all over the world. Riley, do you think you'll be able to find Frank?"

"I'll find him. We hid in plain sight for four years. I can find him," she said confidently.

"What else did you find, Riley?" Danny asked. He'd noticed multiple files open on the handful of screens scattered around the room.

"Well, someone is sitting on my student id number at the University of Tokyo. I can't break the encryption without them seeing immediately. I guess this semester is a complete loss." Riley knew that in the grand scheme of things, her college career wasn't a priority; still, she couldn't keep the wistful tone out of her voice.

"Hey, kid, we are going to get some answers, make sure you're safe, and then we will find a way to work things out with the university, okay?" Danny assured her.

"It's okay, Danny," she said.

"Your talents are completely wasted at the college level," Jerry interjected emphatically. "You can't buy in to the right-wing conspiracy that education is the key to –"

"What else, Riley?" Chin cut Jerry off with a smile.

"Joe White's files have been sealed, and they're being closely monitored. I assume by whatever agency that Agent Freaky Pants was with," Riley said.

"Fielding?" Kono supplied.

"Yeah, him. Anyway, I could break the encryption, easy peasy, but they'd know it. They couldn't trace it, but they'd see that someone got in. And, I'm guessing that they would assume it was Five-O, even if they couldn't trace it and prove it. So I left it alone," Riley said, regretfully.

"Still good work, Riley," Steve said. "It proves that Joe is mixed up with Special Activities Division. If nothing else, it means Agent Fielding's threats weren't idle. All the more reason to keep Catherine as clear of this as possible."

"I found something else," Riley said, flicking some financial records onto the screen. "Um, we have trust funds."

"We?" Steve asked.

"You, Mary . . . me," she answered. "I followed the money from Hideki Mokoto backwards from the University of Tokyo. There are three accounts at the Bank of Hawaii, International Division. No names on the accounts; one is listed under your service id number, one under Mary's social security number, and one under my student ID number from the university."

"You, um, know my service id number? And Mary's social?" Steve asked.

Riley and Jerry rolled their eyes. "Oh, please," they said, in unison.

"So, WoFat has apparently been tracking you for some time, but he must have lost you when Joe took you to Korea. He used Mokoto to find your current location," Steve speculated.

"You think Mokoto gave her up?" Chin asked.

"Joe said he was tortured," Steve replied. "It's certainly possible."

Riley stood up abruptly and left the room. Danny started to go after her, but paused as he felt Steve's hand on his arm.

"I've got it, Danny," Steve said.

He found Riley pacing on the porch.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You okay?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I am actually a very, very long way from okay. Someone who obviously cared about me, about us, was tortured and killed? My entire life is a lie, and while I have absolutely no idea who I am or what my role is in any of this, I'm getting people tortured and killed. I got a front row seat for yours –" she broke off.

Steve put his hands on Riley's shoulders and tried to pull her into a hug, but she resisted, pushing against him. He winced, as pain radiated from the burns and cracked ribs.

"Oh no," Riley gasped in horror, pulling her hands away, "I'm so sorry, Steve."

He grabbed her hands. "Riley, look at me," he commanded. "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? None of it. WoFat is evil personified, and you, and Mokoto, and everyone else is caught in his path. And I am going to stop him, I swear to you, and he will never hurt anyone again. You got that?"

Riley nodded. "Okay. Okay, I'm going to need to borrow some gear from Jerry, you think he'll mind?" Steve watched as she slipped back into her no-nonsense, take no prisoners persona. Joe had indeed trained her well; she compartmentalized almost as well as himself.

"You are a piece of work, kid. Come here," Steve said, pulling her into a hug. "You sure you're up for this?" He gently stroked her hair as her head rested in the crook of his neck.

"You try going without me, and I'll just go alone," she mumbled.

He brushed the soft waves of hair away from the back of her neck, cringing as he saw the still inflamed injection sites.

"Okay, then let's get you geared up, and then I think we better get Malia to check this again, make sure you're good to travel."

Riley was humming happily to herself as Jerry helped her select bits and pieces of cables, connectors, keyboards, and drives.

"I thought you said that Frank was completely off the grid," Danny commented.

"Oh, he is, but that doesn't mean I intend to be," Riley replied. "Besides, you never know when you're going to need a door opened, or a file transferred, or a building, you know . . . poofed."

"Poofed?" Steve said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you know – surveillance disabled, alarms silenced, locks neutralized – poofed."

"Joe teach you that?" Steve asked, skeptically.

"Nah, Olivia," Riley said, then paused. "I mean, Doris. Sorry. Your mom. I guess."

Steve shrugged. "No worries, Riley; I don't know what to call her half the time myself."

Danny's phone buzzed with a text from Catherine.

"Well, guys, we might be a step closer to figuring that out," he said. "Cath says that Max is ready with the preliminary DNA results."

Riley took a deep breath. "Ok, Jerry, I think I have everything. Thanks a million. I'll do my best to get it back to you in one piece."

"It's not a problem," Jerry said. "I'm not even sure what some of those things do, to be perfectly honest. I just pick up random stuff sometimes, figure it will come in handy. Just bring yourself back safely, okay? We have to get together, I want you to teach me some of what you do. It would be invaluable to my research. You're probably the most talented hacker I've ever met."

"Aww, thanks Jerry; you probably say that to all the girls," Riley teased.

"Not really; I've never met a girl who could hack something that I couldn't. Also, you're really pretty," Jerry rambled.

"Okay, then," Steve interrupted, "let's wrap this up."

Danny grinned. "Jerry, it's a long story, but you may want to hold off hitting on Riley in front of Steve."

* * *

The team was gathered in the squad room, waiting for Max to come up from the lab.

"You want to, you know, have some privacy?" Chin asked.

Steve looked at Riley, who shrugged, and said, "Why? We're going to tell them anyway."

Steve nodded. "Riley, you know – whatever the outcome of the DNA test; Five-O is your family now. You understand that, right? This is just to give us answers."

"Okay," Max said, as he walked into the room. He pulled a flash drive out of his pocket and inserted it into the smart table. A graphic of DNA markers appeared on the main screen.

"The first round of testing shows thirty-five out of forty-four markers match. That's not enough to allow for a paternal relationship –"

Steve groaned. "Oh for the love of – would you give it up Max? I'm not her father."

"No, you are not," Max nodded. "There would have to be forty-two out of forty-four markers to determine paternity."

"Max," Chin warned.

"With thirty-five out of forty-four markers, I can state that statistically, there is at least a ninety-five percent chance that Steve and Riley share at least one parent. There is approximately an eighty percent chance that they share both parents," Max continued. "The more markers that we test, the more potential matches, and the greater the statistical possibility that they are full siblings. I will know more in the morning; some of the markers take longer to test. But at present, I can say that it is certain that they are siblings, based on the DNA results and other less scientific, but no less valid observations."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked.

"Well, the objective observations made by Detective Williams, on similarities in body type and idiosyncratic responses are not to be dismissed," Max explained. "The DNA may be the proof, but the observations that prompted the testing are undeniable."

"Malia noticed their cheekbones and eyelashes were remarkably similar," Chin added.

"Steve does have the nicest eyelashes," Catherine smiled.

"Okay, people, standing right here in the room," Steve complained, shifting uncomfortably as Danny and Kono smirked. It was just plain weird, having people talk about his eyelashes, of all things.

Max removed the flash drive from the smart table. "I'll give you the rest of the results as soon as I have them, Commander. No one else is handling this labwork, as you requested. Shall I call you as soon as I have the results? It could finish in the very early hours of the morning."

"Yeah, that's fine, Max. And thanks," Steve added.

"Certainly, Commander. And," Max hesitated, "congratulations. On your new family member."

There was a brief awkward silence in the room.

Kono wrapped her arms around Riley in a gentle hug, and said, "Yes, ho'omai'ka'i 'ana. You have many years of tormenting your older brother to catch up on, little sister. I will help you."

Riley laughed and returned Kono's hug. The awkwardness broken, Steve reached for Riley and pulled her into a bear hug, kissing the top of her head.

"It wouldn't have mattered," he said quietly, "but for what it's worth, I'm glad the test came back the way it did."

"Me, too," she said, her eyes smiling up at him.

"Moonbeam," he teased.

"Asshole," she retorted.

"Look, it's getting late," Steve announced to the room, "and we have a lot of details to work out. But not from here. We're being watched too closely. Special Activities probably already knows about the DNA match. Take a break, meet back up at my place, we'll go over everything there over Longboards. I've had about as much of this office today as I can stand."

Kono smiled delightedly. "I'll grab my board," she said, as she quickly gathered her belongings.

Steve waved her off, and turned to Chin. "I'll get Danny and Catherine to drive us to my place; can you swing by and pick up Malia? The back of Riley's neck is looking really bad. I'd like to get Malia to check her over again."

"Sure, she worked the 7 am to 3 pm shift today, and she's off tomorrow. I know she'll be glad to see Riley," Chin answered.

"Okay. I'm going to check my office; we'll need shots before we go walking around a Korean national forest. I'm thinking tetanus; Riley is going to need an antibiotic, I'm sure of it . . . " Steve paused, trying to think of all that needed to be done.

"Hey, Steve, you've got a lot on your mind. Why don't you let me get Malia to go over all of this, okay? One less thing for you to wrap your brain around," Chin suggested.

Steve rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Chin. Did you – was there ever any indication from my dad, right before my mom's accident – any hint at all, about another baby?"

Chin shook his head. "If your dad had any idea, Steve, he never let on. What are you thinking?"

"We don't know how old Riley is; there are no records. So I don't know if . . . " Steve trailed off.

"You're wondering if you're full siblings?" Chin guessed.

"Yeah. I mean, it changes absolutely nothing in regards to Riley. Chin, that DNA test could have indicated that we weren't even fourth cousins, and it wouldn't have changed anything. I'd still be taking her to go get answers; I'd still be using all of the resources of Five-O at my disposal to protect her. It's not that. It's . . . I don't know who my parents are, any more. One of the last things my dad said to me was that he was sorry that he had lied. Is this one of the things he lied about? That he knew that Mary and I had a sister out there?" Steve sighed tiredly.

"I don't know, Steve," Chin said, "but I do know this: your father loved you and Mary, and your father was a good man. Don't ever doubt that. Don't let WoFat take that away from you."

"And what about my mother, Chin?" Steve asked.

"I have to be honest with you, Steve, I didn't know your mother very well."

"I'm starting to think no one did, Chin," Steve sighed. "Thanks for bringing Malia; I'll see you later."

The sun was starting to set over the water as the team gathered on Steve's lanai. They had abandoned the maps, charts, and Riley's laptop in favor of Longboards, board shorts, and bikinis.

It was unorthodox, but Steve knew his team. This is how they operated best; slightly off the expected protocol. Besides, it was a simple operation: fly into South Korea, go to the national forest, find Frank, ask questions.

Kono was ribbing Danny about surfing, as they caught the small waves on Steve's beach. Chin and Catherine were watching, amused, from the chairs close to the edge of the water.

Riley was scowling as she reclined in a chair, getting an IV antibiotic.

"Not to be ungrateful, but this is not my idea of a fun evening," Riley said, squinting up at Steve.

"I know, kid, but better safe than sorry," he said. "Ow! Malia!" The doctor had surprised him with a shot in the hip, just above the waistline of his board shorts.

"Can't let Riley have all the fun, Steve," she said. "Your burns are healing nicely but I'm not taking any chances. That shot should clear up any lingering infection. Hold still, you're also getting a tetanus."

"How come Riley doesn't get shots?" he said.

"Hey! IV here," Riley protested.

"Are your patients being uncooperative, doctor?" Chin asked, putting his arms around Malia.

"Always, Chin, but I love them anyway," Malia answered.

"Steve, why don't you go relax with Cath for a bit; I'll entertain Malia and Riley with stories of your youth behind your back," Chin suggested.

Steve groaned, but took Chin up on the offer and padded down to the chairs to join Catherine. He gripped the arms of the chair and eased himself down.

"Still feeling it, Steve? You okay?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You sure you're up for this?"

"I'm a little sore, but nothing I can't handle," Steve replied, smiling as he watched Kono and Danny.

"I wasn't just talking about your injuries, Steve," Catherine said gently. "This has already been a huge shock; finding out that you have a sister. Are you sure you're ready to uncover more family secrets?"

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready, but I don't see any other way to keep Riley and Mary safe. The Yakuza has already nabbed Mary once, over the evidence my father had collected. WoFat was behind that, I'm sure of it. He's escalated from kidnapping to kidnapping and torture with Riley. Cath, if they hadn't drug me in when they had . . . I don't know what he would have done to her. And that was with her not knowing anything. She already knows more now . . . no, the only way I see to put an end to this, is to get the answers, and then use that information to find WoFat and stop him. Once and for all."

Catherine reached out and took Steve's hand. "What can I do to help?"

"Catherine, you need to leave tomorrow morning. Before Riley and I set foot out of the country, you need to be signed back in to your post. There can't be any hint that you helped us. I'm not even going to tell you our flight information."

"Plausible deniability? While you and Riley risk your lives?"

"I wouldn't be taking Riley with me if I thought we were going into danger. We're just going to talk to Frank."

"Just a little brother-sister bonding time?"

"Yeah. Of the strangest sort. Tell us about our mother, Frank, the one I thought was dead and Riley thought was unrelated to her," Steve sighed.

"You'll be careful, Steve?" Catherine asked. "I think you really do owe me a dinner, and I want to collect."

"You got it. Next leave, surf and turf, my treat."

* * *

Kono left first, with a quick hug to both Riley and Steve.

"Bring him back in one piece, Riley," she said.

Malia and Catherine cleaned up some dishes in the kitchen, in order to preserve Catherine's plausible deniability as Chin and Danny went over details of terrain and safe extraction zones with Steve and Riley. Satisfied that the plan was simple but thorough, Steve waved Chin and Malia out the door.

Steve was surprised to see Danny coming out of Mary's room in a pair of sweatpants, obviously ready for bed.

"Danno, why don't you head home, get a decent night's sleep in your own bed?" Steve said.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Riley has yet to make it through a night without needing a little help. And you, my friend, while you have been very busy making plans, hosting the team, and generally being your usual stoic self – you've also discovered that at least one of your parents has been less than honest, the man you trusted as a mentor and father-figure has betrayed your trust, you've gained a sibling who you now feel even more obligated to protect and defend, and oh yes – you still look like the wrong end of a prizefight."

"You have a point in all of that, Danny?"

"Yes, I – you need me to explain this? Okay – my point, Steven, is that you need to take some time to unwind and regroup this evening. With your not-girlfriend, and I'll leave it at that because frankly I do not need a visual as to your combined methods of destressing. But you're not going to take that time if it means leaving Riley at loose ends, because Lord only knows she's been through enough. So, I am here for you, by being here for Riley." Danny nodded in satisfaction at his logic.

"Wow, that's – okay, Danny, not going to argue with you." Once again, Steve was impressed and appreciative of Danny's insight. While he would rarely admit it, he recognized that as he bulldozed his way through problems, usually with explosives, Danny had a lighter touch that addressed the emotional side of the equation. "Danny, I don't tell you enough: you're a great partner, and a good person."

"You're so right, Steve, you don't tell me nearly often enough. Now go, get out of here. Go get some rest. And please, for the love of God, remember that this is an older house and the walls are thin. You don't need to scar young Riley for life, not to mention subject me to the emotional trauma of the, um, night maneuvers of a crazy ninja SEAL and a Naval Intelligence expert."

Steve grinned. "Aw, Danno, I'm still injured. I don't think we could possibly offend your delicate sensibilities." Steve headed toward the stairs, then paused. "You'll make sure Riley is okay, yeah? You're right; it's been a hell of a day for her, too."

"Go, you big goof. Riley and I will be just fine."

* * *

"Thiff is amaffing, Danny," Riley mumbled around a spoonful of icecream.

"I can't believe you've never had ice cream. Seriously?" Danny was incredulous.

"Oliva was pretty strict about what I ate," Riley explained, "and I don't remember ever seeing a freezer in Korea with Frank. I remember my roommate eating this at the university, but it was dairy so I didn't try it."

"You're not lactose intolerant, are you? Steve will kill me."

"I don't think so? I had goat milk in Korea. And goat cheese. And, you know, goat. There was much goat."

"Okay, that's worse than pineapple."

"What's wrong with pineapple?"

"It doesn't belong on pizza."

"I've never had pizza, either."

"Oh, Riley, I weep for your childhood. When you come back, you're spending at least a week with me and Gracie, okay? 'Cause Steve, he will have you eating nothing but protein smoothies and wheat germ and that's just wrong. Malia said you needed to put on a few more pounds."

"So, you think when we come back . . . um, do you think Steve will . . . do you think I'll be able to stay? In Hawaii?" Riley's voice was full of uncertainty, and it broke Danny's heart.

"Oh, Riley – honey, yes. Yes, absolutely. I don't think Steve will let you out of his sight. Of course you're going to stay here. Where else would you go?"

"I thought I could stay in Korea, with Frank. But I asked him, when we landed, in Tangerine. And he said it was too dangerous. I don't know if I can go back to Tokyo. I'm not sure . . . " Riley's voice cracked a bit. "I'm not sure where I belong."

"You belong with your family, Riley, and Five-O is your family. Steve by blood, but the rest of us by choice. You got that? You're stuck with us, kid."

* * *

Catherine gently applied antibiotic cream to the electrical burns scattered across Steve's ribs.

"I can't believe you're taking off again. These are barely starting to heal," she murmured.

"It'll be okay," he said, taking her hands in his. "Thank you for coming, Cath."

"Honestly? It's nice to be needed for something other than intel," Catherine said, smiling.

"Oh really? That so? Because . . . I can suggest quite a few other things that I need, you know, besides intel . . . "

* * *

Riley couldn't resist peeking out the window as Steve walked Catherine to the taxi waiting to take her to the airport.

"Go, big brother," she said, as she watched Steve cradle Catherine's face in his hands and kiss her thoroughly, mindless or heedless of the taxi driver.

He waited until the taxi had turned the corner of the street, and then walked back in the house.

"Brat," he said fondly, as he came through the front door.

Riley grinned at him as Danny shook his head. "You two gonna make up for lost time, then?"

"It's a long flight, Danny," Riley said in mock seriousness.

"Okay, do you have your gear?" Steve asked. "Pack?"

"Yep, I have all the gear I need, and a small pack. I don't have anything warm, though, and it's going to be chilly. Do you have a sweatshirt, maybe a jacket that I could borrow?"

Steve nodded and went to a closet at the back of the house. He pulled out an Annapolis sweatshirt, and then paused as his hand brushed over a battered leather jacket. His dad's jacket. He pulled it out of the closet.

"This was too small for me, too big for Mary, but I held on to it," he said, holding out the jacket to Riley.

She brushed her fingers over the worn leather. "Your dad's?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "It should be the right weight for Korea; protective if we have to do a bit of hiking."

"But, it's your dad's," Riley protested. "I can't possibly . . . "

"Riley. I got the text from Max. The markers line up; we are full siblings. My father, my mother – same as yours."

Riley hugged the jacket to herself. "Why? Why would Olivia and Joe keep that from me? Do you think Frank knew?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know, Riley. Chin, Joe, and Mokoto always said that my – our – father did everything he did to protect his family. Doris . . . I'm not sure what to think. But let's go find Frank, and see if we can get some answers, okay?"


	5. Chapter 5

"We should be back in four days, Danny," Steve said, as they parted ways at the gates of Hickam. He had applied for official leave from the Naval Reserves, signed off on vacation days from Five-O. However, flying commercial under their own names with assorted weapons and suspicious looking electronic gear would have attracted attention and slowed them down; besides, Riley had no passport. Steve had secured two seats on a military transport leaving out of Hickam. It wouldn't be comfortable, but there wouldn't be any questions asked.

"We'll have to go by Jeep and by foot from the base to the forest," Steve said, as they buckled in for the long, uncomfortable flight. "You're good with that?"

"Steve, I was trained for that, remember? I'm good," she assured him.

About an hour into the flight, Steve noticed Riley rubbing the back of her neck.

"You hurting?" he asked.

"Just stiff and sore. This seat hits, you know, where . . . "

"Lean forward." Riley did as he asked, and Steve placed his cool hand on the still inflamed skin. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tube of analgesic antibiotic cream that Malia had insisted he carry on his person. He squeezed a bit onto his fingers and gently rubbed her neck.

"Thanks," she sighed in relief.

"Ummhmm," he murmured absently. "Riley? Tell me about your time with Doris . . . Oliva. Please?"

"It was pretty amazing, really. I don't remember much, of course, until I was about preschool age. We lived in this tiny little apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo. I remember her reading to me constantly. She taught me to read and write. We played memory games . . . How many steps from the corner to the market? How many blocks from the apartment to the library? What was the butcher wearing today?"

Steve's hand went still.

"What is it?" Riley asked.

"I don't think those were games, Riley. I think she was training you, preparing you."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure. But if we've attracted the attention of the Special Activities Division because of searching for Joe, and Joe is definitely connected to Doris . . . well, it's starting to sound to me like Doris may have been connected to the division as well. And those memory games were teaching you to be exceptionally observant. She also could have just been teaching you to be able to find your way home if you got lost. Who knows."

"What do you remember about her?" Riley asked.

"She was a much more stereotypical mom, you know? Cookies and milk after school, PTA meetings. She was a stickler for homework, I guess we have that memory in common. She was a very popular teacher. My dad and she . . . they seemed really happy, you know?"

Riley nodded.

"One day, the doorbell rang," Steve continued. "A uniformed officer came and told us that she had been killed. By a drunk driver. I was almost sixteen. Within three months, my dad had sent us to the mainland. That was it; I just took for granted she was dead. I never stopped to question. But my dad might have, I'm not sure. He at least didn't buy that she had been killed by a drunk driver."

Steve continued to rub small circles on Riley's neck and shoulders. She was completely knotted with tension, not that he was surprised.

"What happened, when she disappeared?" he asked.

"That's just it, exactly," she said. "She just disappeared. Went to the market one day for rice, and didn't come back. I was almost sixteen, too. I searched the city for her for days. Nothing. One night, Joe showed up. You know the rest – he took me to Frank's and spent months in training. All he said was that I was being placed in WITSEC."

"I'm looking forward to hearing exactly what this training was, but I think you need to try to get some rest. Do you think you can sleep a little?"

Riley nodded, and Steve settled her so that her head was nestled on his shoulder. By the time he had covered her with their father's jacket, she had already drifted off to sleep. Two hours later, he realized that she had not had a single bad dream. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and fell into his own peaceful slumber.

* * *

Two flight changes later, including a one hour layover with blissful hot showers, Steve and Riley were in their Jeep headed toward Bukhansan.

"This is just killing you, isn't it?" Riley grinned at Steve shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "Wait, you're miserable because you're not driving, right? Or are hurting? We can stop . . . "

Steve shifted again and gave Riley a tight smile. "I'm used to driving," he said.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I'm a little sore. Let's keep driving, though."

Riley nodded and expertly maneuvered the Jeep along the dirt roads. Steve had reluctantly agreed to let her drive in deference both to her knowledge of the area and his aching ribs.

Within the hour, they had arrived at their immediate destination. Riley parked the Jeep in a secluded nook. She winced as she climbed out; all of the sitting and driving over the rough roads had taken a toll on her. Grabbing her backpack and tactical bag, she rounded the back of the vehicle in time to hear Steve try to muffle a groan of pain as he unfolded himself from his seat.

"Easy there, Steve," Riley said, extending her hand to grip his forearm and give him some leverage to pull himself to a standing position.

"We have steps," Riley said, indicating to a long series of winding steps leading up to a modest structure on the side of the hill. "Can you make it?"

Steve scoffed and grabbed his bags from the back seat. "Lead the way, I'm fine."

By the time they reached the building, Steve was breathing shallowly and Riley was alarmed at his pallor. She wrapped an arm around his waist as she rang the small gong next to the door.

"Hold on," she said.

To Steve's surprise, a monk in an orange robe answered the door.

Riley murmured a few words in Korean and bowed awkwardly, not releasing her grip on Steve. The monk bowed and gestured them inside.

"Where are we?" Steve whispered.

"Remember when I said I studied martial arts?" Riley asked. "This was my dojang in Korea. Frank found it for me. It's one of the reasons I'm sure we'll find him here. The monks will help us."

Three monks came out to greet them. One broke into a broad smile and bowed deeply to Riley. She returned both the bow and the smile. A few more Korean phrases and a gesture toward Steve, and he found himself being gently led away by the other two monks.

The remaining monk started to lead Riley in the opposite direction, and Steve spooked. He turned, pulling away from his escorts.

"No!" he called out, "No, you can't take her . . . "

"Steve, it's okay," Riley said. She gestured toward Steve and murmured a few more phrases to the monk. He studied Steve dubiously and Riley nodded emphatically. Steve thought he made out the word 'brother'. Finally, the monk nodded and he and Riley headed down the same hall as Steve. She slipped beside him and took his hand.

"I explained that you're my brother, so they'll let us stay together," she explained. "They have rules, you know."

An hour later, Steve had to admit that there were advantages to being in Riley's element.

"Unbelievable," he said, running his hand over his newly wrapped ribs.

"Yeah," Riley said, sipping on tea. "No offense to Malia, but Eastern medicine has a few neat tricks."

They had both been carefully tended to; their burns soothed with ointment and their ribs rewrapped. Riley had a compress of herbs on the back of her neck.

"So, tomorrow morning, first light, we'll head over to the edge of the boundary. It's only about a five mile hike, not too rough. It's where Frank parked Tangerine when we stayed here before."

"His bolt hole?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Sounds like a good plan. This is . . . when we brought you out of North Korea, I had no idea . . . you've been very well-trained, Riley. It's a little unsettling."

"Eh, you'll get used to it," Riley grinned.

* * *

Steve and Riley bowed to the monks the next morning and headed out.

The morning passed quickly as the two hiked in companionable silence.

"I can hear you thinking, you know," Steve smiled down at Riley.

"That obvious?"

"Yeah, what's on your mind?"

"Do you think she's still alive? Oliva?" Riley asked, pausing to take a sip of water, and offering Steve the bottle.

He took a large swig. "I don't know, Riley."

She nodded. "Okay, only about another half mile."

"Is that . . . " Steve stopped, sniffing the air.

"Um, yeah, it is," Riley grinned. "We found Frank."

"Weed."

"It's for medicinal purposes?" Riley offered.

"For what condition?"

Riley stopped, put her hands on her hips, and faced Steve. "PTSD."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so, you know. Just . . . "

"Got it."

Riley walked to the door of a small cottage, the notation of "groundskeeper" on a sign in Korean, American, French, and Chinese. She knocked on the door and waited.

There was a shuffling sound and a muttered curse.

"No worries, Frank, it's just me," Riley called softly through the door.

The door was flung open, and Frank appeared in the doorway.

"Moonbeam," he said, relief and concern evident in his face and tone.

"Gonna let us in?" Riley asked.

Frank sighed. "Not gonna leave you standing out here. Come on, then."

As soon as Riley was in the door, Frank wrapped her tight in a hug and picked her up off her feet.

"Ooof", she gasped, "ribs, Frank."

"Sorry, darlin'" he said, putting her gently back on her feet. He settled for keeping her pulled close to him, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. "I see you brought your new friend back to visit me."

Riley pulled back and looked Frank in the eyes.

"Ah," he said, "you've figured it out."

Frank extended a hand to Steve. "Welcome back to Korea, son. You look a far sight better than you did last time I saw you, though I'm not sure you and Riley here should be humping through the forest just yet."

"We came for answers, Frank," Steve said, shaking Frank's hand.

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Okay, well, take a load off. Stow your gear over there. Coffee, tea, something stronger? A smoke?" Frank puttered around the small cottage and Steve and Riley did as instructed, gratefully setting down their backpacks. Frank led them outside to a small campfire and they settled in.

"Okay, darlin', where do you want me to start?" Frank said. "I'm gonna assume that Joe White has left you hangin', yeah?"

Steve nodded tersely. "We know that Riley and I are full siblings. She saw a picture of Doris at my house; she knew her as Olivia, the woman who raised her from the time she can remember. Obviously, Olivia was Doris McGarrett, and she was my mother and Riley's. Setting aside the obvious question – why did my mother apparently fake her death, which I would love to know – the immediate concern is why did Joe White bring Riley to you; and why does WoFat want her? And why is Joe afraid to face me with answers?"

"That's a lot of questions, son," Frank said. "I was hoping Joe would come clean, explain it to you, but obviously he didn't. You're right, of course – Riley was born about six months after Doris McGarrett's memorial service. Now, I swear to you, I do not know any details beyond that. Joe insisted that it was safer for Riley for me not to know. What I can tell you is that Doris raised Riley street-smart in the outskirts of Tokyo. By the time Riley came to me at sixteen, she was fluent in English and Japanese, a blackbelt in Aikido, and could pick any lock put in front of her. Had the scariest powers of observation I've ever encountered."

Frank paused to pour coffee from the campfire into three battered tin mugs. Steve and Riley accepted the rich brew gratefully.

"That's not a typical upbringing," Steve commented.

"No," Frank shook his head slowly. "No, it's not."

"Frank, we know Joe is mixed up with Special Activities Division. We got a visit from an agent with a cease and desist order when we started looking into Joe's life. What you're describing . . . " Steve didn't finish the sentence. If his hunch was right, and Doris was CIA, then the less they knew the better. But not knowing was driving him crazy.

"I know, kid, it's . . . 'spooky' . . . let's just say," Frank said wryly.

"Okay, so what happened, Frank? Olivia just disappeared off the face of the earth. I searched for her, for days, and nothing. Then Joe showed up out of the blue and brought me here," Riley said.

"Joe and I crossed paths on an op . . . just an op, we'll leave it at that. I'm not sure how or why he was connected to Doris; I'm sorry, I know you want more answers but that's the truth. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to be able to give away any information that could endanger Riley or Doris. You have to understand, Steve – you and Mary were just names to me. I only knew that Doris had faked her death in order to protect her family."

Frank stood up and added some more wood to the campfire and refilled Steve's mug.

"Joe tracked me down in a bar one day, said he had a package for me. He followed me back to my place, and pulls Riley out of his truck like a damn rabbit out of a hat," Frank continued.

Riley grinned.

"She was skinny and feisty, guess that much hasn't changed. Joe said that her mother was a contact, with information important to national security, and that she'd had to go underground, leaving Riley behind. Joe brought her to me for safe-keeping; he told her that he was an agent with Witness Protection, and of course, at sixteen, alone in the world, she took him at his word. Riley, I'm sure, has told you some of her antics with Joe. He stayed here for about six months, had Riley up at the crack of dawn every morning, doing what amounted to BUDs training." Frank shook his head; Steve surmised that he wasn't entirely impressed with Joe's methods.

"But why, Frank? What were Doris and Joe both so afraid of?" Steve asked.

"Kid, I think that whatever Doris was involved in, Joe was involved in it too. I think Doris was always looking over her shoulder, so she did her best to raise Riley to be smart, tough, and independent. So if anything happened to her, Riley could hold her own. And I think Joe knew more than Doris; I think he knew that Riley would be a target, so he was trying to teach her to protect herself."

"I didn't do a very good job," Riley frowned.

"Riley, you couldn't expect yourself from a danger you didn't know existed," Steve said. "Joe lied to you and kept you in the dark. He should have brought you to me. He should have been honest, told me what was going on."

Steve stood up and paced around the campfire. "You don't know anything about Doris' mission, Frank? Her work? What she and Joe were doing?"

Frank shook his head. "Sorry, kid. My role in all of this was to keep Riley safe. I only knew of your existence; I didn't know anything about your activities. Joe wanted me to stay completely off the grid to keep anyone from tracking Riley through me. I had no way to keep track of you, or contact you, for that matter. It all came together for me when we came to haul you out; but Riley being there – Joe was completely surprised."

"Yeah, convenient for Joe to suggest that," Steve said, sarcastically. "Perfect way to keep me completely unaware that Mary and I had a sister; that our mother was still alive. But, you did tell me to take good care of my sister, and I intend to."

Frank shrugged. "Kid, I can't explain or defend Joe's motives to you, and I have no intention of trying. I don't know him all that well, didn't care for him all that much."

"And yet, you took me in when he asked you to?" Riley asked.

"What can I say, I like a challenge," Frank drawled. "Plus, it was damn fun to teach you to fly Tangerine. We had a few good years there, kid, you and me against the world. Till Joe showed up and took you off to college. I've missed you, darlin', truth be told. Even if you did cramp my style with the ladies."

"You let Joe take her away to the university?" Steve asked.

Frank sighed. "I had mixed feelings, son, don't think I didn't. But, it had been a few years. Joe said that a man who was loyal to your father had provided the education for Riley. And she was going to be under protection."

"By whom? Certainly not Joe," Steve said.

"Hell, no," Frank snorted. "By the Kkangpae."

"Wait, I was being protected by organized crime thugs?" Riley protested. " I would have expected better results from the rivals of the Yakuza. At what point, exactly, did they protect me?" Riley stopped and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Certainly not at the point that the Yakuza clocked me over the back of the head and drug me off to WoFat."

"Hey, kid, I think you better hit the rack. You're looking a little rough around the edges. One of the perks of being a groundskeeper is indoor plumbing – knock yourself out and take first shift in the shower. I've got a pot of soup on the stove, we'll get it heated up."

Riley nodded and headed inside, grabbing her bag. It was easy to find the bathroom in the tiny cottage. She smiled to herself as she brushed the remnants of a joint off the sink and started the shower.

"What aren't you saying in front of Riley?" Steve asked quietly, as soon as she was inside.

"You don't miss a trick, do you, son?" Frank asked.

"No sir. Joe trained me, too."

"Well, for starters, Joe said that Doris had to go underground. I don't know if he meant that figuratively . . . "

"Or literally," Steve finished.

"Yes. I'm sorry, son, I wish I could tell you and Riley at least that much. The fact that Joe was so hell bent on training Riley tells me that he thought Doris was alive, though, for what that's worth. I think he always thought she would be a target," Frank said. "I didn't know the name WoFat until our last meeting, so I don't even know if that's who was in play back when Joe brought me Riley."

Steve shook his head.

"Steve," Frank said, "I don't know your relationship with Joe. He came all the way to North Korea to pull you out of that compound."

"Joe was my training officer in BUDs and my CO on quite a few ops. But before that, he was a close friend of my father's. He's always been something of a father figure and mentor to me . . . but when I needed him most, needed answers . . . he lied and bailed out. You don't need to protect my opinion of him at this point; just tell me what you know." Steve crossed his arms and waited for what Frank had to say.

"Well, son, then I'm going to tell you, Joe's methods of 'training' Riley were brutal."

"Yeah, BUDs training is hard core, there's no doubt about it," Steve agreed.

"Umm hmm, and how old were you when you went into BUDs?" Frank asked.

"Twenty-three," Steve replied.

"Yep, and how tall were you, how much did you weigh?"

"About six one, one ninety going in. Little less coming out."

"Right. And did you have team-mates, buddies to help you when the going got tough?" Frank kept on.

Steve paused. "Yeah."

"So. Try to imagine . . . I guess you would have been about sixteen when Doris was supposedly killed in that wreck, right? Yeah, so imagine Joe White bringing you out here in the middle of nowhere, right then, at that point in your life, and starting your BUDs training. Now, imagine being a good half foot shorter and about a hundred pounds soaking wet," Frank scowled.

"Shit," Steve breathed out, the realization of Joe's methods sinking in. "Riley acted like it was day camp."

"Because she didn't know any different," Frank reminded him. "Joe had her convinced it was Witness Protection and this was protocol. Don't get me wrong, some of it probably was fun for her. She was a natural with the guns – kinda like that pretty Kono girl that came to bust you out. She's strong, and she's light, so she could do things with climbing that I don't think even Joe could have imagined. And let me tell you, your mother had made sure that girl had the best martial arts training. I saw her take Joe down sparring once."

"No way," Steve said.

"I shit you not," Frank said. "But I had to draw the line on some of his ideas."

"There was a worse idea than putting a one hundred pound sixteen year old girl through BUDs training?"

Frank hesitated. "What was the worst part of your training that you recall, kid?"

"SERE training," Steve replied, without hesitating.

"The parts you can talk about, or the parts that are classified?"

Steve gave Frank a sharp look.

"Yeah, well, I'm just an old bastard that's missing in action; I don't do classified very well. Let's just say that Riley's 'training' ended the day I drew a gun on Joe for training her to withstand torture. I couldn't take it any more."

Steve gaped at Frank in horror. "He didn't seriously . . . "

"Oh, yeah, son. When he decided that cigarette burns and waterboarding needed to be part of the curriculum, I decided school was out. For good."

* * *

When Riley came out of the shower, rubbing her hair with one of Frank's ratty towels, Frank was puttering in the tiny kitchen, warming up the promised soup.

"Hey," she said to Steve, who was standing outside the bathroom door. "Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Riley," Steve said hoarsely, "Frank . . . can I just . . . ?" He gestured toward the neckline of her simple t-shirt.

Riley didn't know what he was getting at; so she shrugged. "Yeah, what?"

He gently pulled the collar of her t-shirt down below her collarbone. There, just as Frank said, was a row of four perfectly circular scars. He repeated the gesture on the other side, to reveal three more scars.

"I didn't do so well on that side," Riley mumbled. "Sorry." She looked at Steve, expecting to see disappointment.

"You didn't . . . you're apologizing for . . . oh my God, Riley. No. No, no sweetheart. It was . . . Joe was completely – what he did, Riley, that was insane. I'm so sorry, if I had known . . . Frank should have shot him," Steve said, gritting his teeth in anger.

"It's okay, Steve, he was just trying to make sure I could handle myself. See, that's why what happened with WoFat wasn't that big of a deal," Riley said earnestly. "I could handle it; I'd had worse."

"It doesn't matter, Riley, it was so wrong. All of it, so terribly wrong. I can't even explain . . . " Steve broke off, at a loss for words, and pulled Riley to his chest, cradling her head against his shoulder.

* * *

The next morning, Steve and Riley reversed their journey and started the hike back towards the dojang to retrieve their Jeep.

Frank had sent them off with fresh provisions, though Steve politely declined his offer of some first class grass. Riley made it about thirty yards away from the cottage before she turned back in a dead run and launched herself into Frank's arms.

"Thank you, Frank," she said, trying desperately to hold back tears.

"Darlin', I love every minute I ever have with you. You know you can always come to me, right?"

Riley nodded. "Should I just stay, now?" she whispered. "Pretend none of the rest of this is happening?"

"I don't think you'd be happy with that for long, baby girl. Besides, that big brother of yours would be lost without you right now. You need to take care of each other for a while, okay?" Frank said.

Riley hugged Frank once more and then turned and walked back to Steve, who was waiting patiently for her.

"You okay?" he asked gently as she returned to his side.

She nodded mutely, still struggling to maintain her composure.

Steve waved once more at Frank and then squeezed Riley's hand. "Come on, let's go home," he said.

They were loading their gear into the Jeep when Steve heard the twig snap.

He whirled around in time to disrupt the punch that was thrown toward his face; the blow glanced off without doing much damage. He instinctively struck out with a strong uppercut of his own, and heard a satisfying crunch as his fist connected with his assailant's jaw.

He turned, frantic to get Riley in his sight, and then froze and watched in amazement.

While he had been busy dropping his attacker, Riley had taken on three of her own. One was already on the ground, groaning and clutching at an arm bent in an entirely unnatural position. A second was on his way over her left shoulder. Steve heard the pop as his shoulder dislocated, and then he landed on the ground with a solid thud.

The third attacker stopped at the sound of the safety sliding off Steve's gun. Riley looked mildly annoyed.

"Steve, stand down," she said. "They're just punks."

She spoke a few sharp words in Korean, and the third assailant raised his hands, as if to indicate that he would not interfere with their exit. As Riley moved toward the Jeep, however, he made the grave error of making a grab for her ass. Her roundhouse kick landed him against a tree, groaning and clutching his crotch in agony.

"Would you like to drive, Steve?" Riley held out the keys to him. She wasn't even breathing hard.

* * *

" _They're in Korea," Joe said into the phone. "If they head your way I'll have to intervene on this end; if not, I'll wait until they get back to the island."_

 _He was silent for a moment, listening to the other party._

" _She'll be able to retrieve the information and create enough misdirection to lead WoFat to believe that John was Shelburne; I'm more sure of it than ever." Joe paused. "Either way, I'll move her after she's finished. It's too dangerous to allow her to stay in contact with Steve. We'll have to keep them separated."_

* * *

"Frank told me you once bested Joe in sparring," Steve said, "and now I almost believe him."

Riley tossed her head back and laughed. Steve smiled – it was the first honest laugh he'd ever heard out of her. It reminded him of Mary, again.

"Glad to know I can impress my big brother," Riley said.

Steve felt a sudden and completely unexpected sting of tears rush to his eyes. He was a big brother . . . not just to Mary, but to Riley as well. The DNA test had confirmed what he somehow had instinctively sensed from the moment she first opened her eyes on that helicopter. And now he was responsible to protect both of them, somehow. It wasn't an unwelcome responsibility, but the enormity of it was starting to sink in.

"Steve?" Riley asked hesitantly. "Are you – I'm sorry, you don't have to be stuck with me, you know."

Steve realized that Riley was misreading his silence.

"No, no, Riley, it's not that at all. But you and Mary have both been put in harm's way recently . . . I'm just trying to think things through."

"Where is Mary?" Riley asked. It seemed strange to be asking about a sister that she had never met.

"Mary, thank goodness, is currently on a Marine base. She can be a bit of a trouble magnet, even without Joe's cloak and dagger shenanigans."

"Shenanigans, really?" Riley asked. "Frank helped raise me, you can use your Navy vocabulary."

Steve laughed. "I spend a lot of time with Danny, who has a word-a-day calendar, and a preteen daughter."

"Oh, that explains a lot, then," Riley said. "Are we headed back to Hawaii?"

"Yes, why?" Steve asked.

"I was thinking . . . if we went to Tokyo," Riley answered slowly, "maybe we could find some answers?"

"About our mother," Steve guessed.

Riley shrugged. "I mean, we know a lot more now . . . maybe we could turn something up?"

"I've thought about it Riley, believe me. It seems like a logical place to start. Even talked to Frank about the idea last night. But, I can't afford to get us caught in a war between the Yakuza and the Kkangpae; not on their own turf. If we go back, I have my team, the resources of Five-O, and the protection of the governor. We can get you back to Jerry's and see if you can do some digging off the record," Steve explained. "So, we go home, okay? We'll come back, if we need to."

"Home." Riley tried the word on for size. She still looked skeptical.

"Home, and ohana," Steve said.

"Ohana?"

"Means family. And you have one now, Riley, make no mistake," Steve said firmly. "So for now, we go home."


	6. Chapter 6

Danny was waiting for them at Hickam, smiling in relief when he saw them step off the plane, safe and sound.

"You both are a sight for sore eyes," he said, as they climbed into Steve's truck.

"It's good to be home, Danny," Steve said.

"Any luck?" Danny asked. "Did you find answers?"

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, but not the ones we were looking for, Danno."

"Sorry, buddy. What next?"

"We rest, regroup. Start again tomorrow," Steve said. "Let's go home, yeah, Riley?"

Riley smiled and nodded in agreement. Home. She was surprised, but that's exactly what it felt like, driving back to Steve's house. The McGarrett home. Her home.

* * *

It was shockingly easy for Joe to take Riley from the safety and security of that home.

He knew Steve's schedule too well; knew that the early morning swim would be impossible for him to resist. The SWAT officers posted at the front and back doors were dispatched with ease; they were fine officers, he was sure, but they weren't SEALs. They also had no reason to suspect that the uniformed commander was a threat; they assumed he was there for Steve.

He put the gun to Riley's head just as Steve reached the chairs and paused to dry himself off with a towel.

"I have two snipers ready to take the kill shot; they're locked on Steve and they will not miss." Joe said quietly, stopping Riley just as she was about to step out onto the lanai. "Come with me, quietly and quickly, and I swear to you he won't be hurt."

Riley didn't hesitate. She winced as Joe forcefully grabbed her by the back of the neck and guided her to his waiting car. Steve didn't even hear the engine over the gentle, familiar sound of the waves breaking softly behind him.

Steve knew something was wrong the minute he started walking to the house. The SWAT officer that had wished him a good morning and a good swim was nowhere to be seen.

Steve hastened his pace and glanced around frantically. He saw the heel of the officer's boot underneath the shrubbery by the back door. Desperately, he scrabbled for a hold on the tac vest and pulled until he could feel for a pulse. It took a few seconds, but it was there, weak but steady.

Steve barreled in his back door.

"Riley?!" he called out.

Nothing.

He reached in a drawer and grabbed his SIG, and picked up his phone from the table. He dialed Danny as he moved quickly to the front door. No sign of the officer there, either. He looked around until he located the officer. Thumbing his phone onto speaker, he laid it down and felt for a pulse. Barely there. He hung his head in frustration, just as Danny came on the line.

"Danny!" he barked into the phone. "Get everyone over here now – call Grover – someone took out the SWAT detail. Riley's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"Gone, Danno," Steve's voice broke. "I think . . . I think WoFat may have her."

* * *

They processed the house in grim silence.

"Nothing?" Steve asked, again, as he paced the living room.

"I'm so sorry, Steve, there's absolutely nothing. No prints, no residue, nothing." Kono shook her head. "Are you absolutely sure nothing's been moved or disturbed?"

"I'm sure . . . her coffee mug was still warm when I got back in the house," Steve said.

"Maybe she left," Chin offered hopefully. "Maybe she hid. Someone took out the officers, she got spooked, and ran. There's no indication of a struggle, right? And Joe trained her; you said she took out three assailants when you were with her in Korea."

Steve nodded. "She can handle herself, no doubt. But someone quietly and efficiently took down those officers, took them by surprise. She wouldn't have run, Chin. She would have fought, sure, but she wouldn't have run scared. If there's nothing here . . . let's head back to the Palace. We'll get statements from the officers as soon as they're cleared from the ER; go from there."

He went to close the doors and pick up his badge and cell phone from the kitchen counter. Danny watched as he wrapped his fingers around the mug left on the counter. For a moment, Danny thought the mug was going to become shrapnel, but instead, Steve gently rinsed it out and placed it next to the coffee maker. He gripped the counter so hard Danny could see his knuckles turn white, see the veins stand out on his forearms.

"Babe?" Danny called quietly.

"I . . . Danno, I just found her. I can't lose her," Steve gritted out. "If WoFat has her . . . "

"One thing at a time, Steve, yeah? Let's go see what we can find out. We'll get her back, Steve; we will."

"Both officers have the same account," Chin said, walking into the squad room. "They didn't see or hear a thing – caught completely off guard in a chokehold. They were left just barely breathing . . . their assailant didn't want them dead but they were put down hard."

"WoFat," Steve said grimly, his knuckles gripped white on the smart table.

"Or someone from that damn Special Activities Division," Danny added, "like Joe White."

Steve paused, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "He might want her; Special Activities must have a vested interest," he said. "And he wouldn't kill her. The problem is, we haven't been able to find Joe, we have the SAD breathing down our necks and making threats . . . what do we do?"

* * *

"Yes, Governor, it would be my pleasure to assist in the search. I will notify Five-O immediately if I uncover any information at all."

Catherine hung up the phone and smiled. She picked up her personal cell and sent a text.

 _Operating under special request from Denning. SAD no issue. Will give you updates ASAP._

She hit send, paused a moment, and then sent another text.

 _We'll get her back._

* * *

"Okay, so Denning has managed to pull SAD off us for the time being; he even tasked Catherine to help us using Navy Intelligence channels. If Joe does have Riley, he's not going to be able to hide indefinitely. If it isn't Joe that has her . . . "Steve hesitated. If they were wrong, they were wasting precious time.

Chin frowned at the display on the plasma screen. Hours had passed with no leads and his eyes were growing weary with fatigue. He thought he saw something but . . .

"Kono, check this out," he said.

Kono came out of her office and stood next to Chin at the console.

"What is it?"

"Look at this – remember that cover file you had at the ready, when Agent Fielding came in?"

"Yeah, it was something Steve and I worked out after that last IA debacle. Something that I could throw up in a split second to cover tracks if I needed to."

"Well, it keeps turning up like a bad penny, almost like a computer virus," Chin said.

"Hunh, that's weird. It's definitely not a virus," Kono said. "Let me see what's going on."

She typed several commands and the file collapsed and then reappeared on the screen.

"Wait, that's different," Kono said, her hands flying over the keyboard. "That file segment; that's not part of the original file."

"What is it, then?" Chin asked.

Kono typed in a few more commands and isolated a line of code hidden in one of the restaurant menu options. "This – this line of code has nothing to do with a menu. It looks like . . . "

She turned and looked in Steve's office. He immediately sensed the change in her posture and came charging from behind his desk.

"What," he demanded. "What have you got?"

"Steve, it looks like coordinates. I think Riley sent us her location."

* * *

Danny had an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu as they geared up. The last time he had seen this look on Steve's face was when they had found that bloody tooth on the floor of Mary's apartment.

"Steve, what's going through that head of yours?" Danny asked.

When he saw the expression on Steve's face as he turned to look at him, he almost wished he hadn't asked.

* * *

 _WoFat smiled at his companions._

" _The old man thinks he is sending his protégé' in under his control, and his design. By now, he's revealed the identity of Shelburne to her. Let's alleviate him of his burden, shall we? It's time."_

* * *

They arrived at the warehouse within thirty minutes of Kono's discovery.

To their surprise, they met no resistance at the door. Steve kicked it down in frustration anyway.

"Joe?"

He raised a hand for the others to pause. Joe was in the center of the room, tied to a chair, beaten within an inch of his life. A table behind him was covered with computer equipment, some of it smoking. Several bodies littered the floor, blood pooling under them.

"Joe . . . Joe, hold on," Steve muttered, as he and Danny worked to release Joe from his bonds. Chin was already calling an ambulance, Kono was calling in a forensics team.

"Steve, I'm sorry, son. I thought I could protect her."

"Joe, you arrogant bastard. What the hell have you done?" Steve was torn between fury and concern. "Where is she?"

"WoFat has her, Steve. I couldn't . . . I didn't anticipate this."

* * *

Steve paced outside the hospital room.

When the doctor emerged, Steve didn't even pause long enough to hear a medical update. He honestly didn't care.

"Tell me," he demanded hoarsely, standing over the foot of Joe's bed.

"I needed her, Steve. I needed her to create a history for Shelburne."

"Damn it, Joe, give me answers, now!" Steve yelled, gripping the railing at the foot of the bed.

"I'm trying to, son –"

Steve held up his hand. "Don't. Don't ever call me that again."

"Okay, Steve." Joe passed a shaking hand over his bruised face. "WoFat has been in league with the Yakuza for decades. Your mother worked with me in Special Activities. We were working to bring down the Yakuza. She got too close, her cover was compromised."

"My mother was CIA," Steve said. It wasn't a question at this point.

"Yes. I recruited her myself, as part of Special Activities. When she became a Yakuza target, I helped her fake her death and relocated her to Tokyo. Riley was born not too long after. The foster parent story was to keep Riley in the dark; it was a risk, but your mother wasn't willing to give her up."

Steve cringed. She had been willing to give him up, though, and Mary.

"And my father?" Steve demanded. "What did he know, Joe?"

"Nothing. It would have been better if he had left it alone, but he didn't. He started to suspect that she had been murdered – not true, but the explosives we used to fake the accident led him down that path. He suspected that the Yakuza had murdered her; not far from the truth, but not the truth. Still, it strengthened your mother's cover story so we let it go."

Steve nodded. "What about the baby? What about Riley? Did my father know about the baby?"

Joe was silent for a moment. "I don't think that's pertinent to this discussion, Steve."

"Oh, so now you're going to focus on the truth? Convenient, Joe," Steve snarled.

"I'm going to focus on helping you find your sister before WoFat kills her."

Steve gripped the rails of the bed so hard that they groaned under the pressure.

"Okay, go on," he gritted out.

"When Riley was about sixteen, WoFat began closing in on your mother again. We're not sure how he picked up the trail but he had. She had no choice but to go further off the radar. I took Riley to Frank, to keep her safe. Taught her to take care of herself, just like your mother had been doing."

"Yeah, we went back to see Frank. He told us about your training. How benevolent of you, Joe, to torture a sixteen year old girl."

"It was for her own protection," Joe insisted.

"I think you better keep talking, before I dwell on that particular topic," Steve warned.

"We realized that with her specialized training, and her obvious talent and intelligence, Riley could be a force to be reckoned with. When Mokoto offered to fund her education at the university of Tokyo, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. We convinced the Kkangpae to serve as protection; we thought they would be motivated enough by their hatred of the Yakuza to protect their interests by protecting her. We didn't realize that WoFat would connect the dots but he did, far more quickly than we ever could have anticipated." Joe stopped, grimacing in pain.

A nurse stepped in. "Sir, we need to administer some pain medication for him."

"Not. Yet." Steve said in a menacing tone. "He doesn't deserve it. He can get it, though, when he gives me enough information to rescue an innocent girl."

The nurse beat a hasty retreat.

"So he kidnapped her, took her to North Korea to wait for Jenna to deliver me. What is Shelburne, and why does he think we know?"

"Shelburne . . . is the code name of the CIA operative who killed his father. He is hell-bent on revenge, Steve. You can relate, can you not?" Joe half-smiled at the irony.

"Tell me, Joe, who is Shelburne?" Steve demanded.

"Your mother. Your mother killed WoFat's father. And his mother, in the cross-fire. She felt so guilty that she raised WoFat for a while, until the CIA and Special Activities made her give him up. He wants revenge . . . for his father's death, and for the time you and your sisters were able to spend with your mother that he wasn't." Joe coughed weakly.

Danny had slipped into the room, having been begged by the nurse to intervene on behalf of her patient.

"What were you doing with Riley, Joe? With the computers?" Steve demanded. He was afraid that Joe was simply going to lose consciousness before he could get the answers he needed.

"Creating a better cover, Steve. We thought that with Riley's cooperation, we could convince WoFat that your father was Shelburne. If WoFat would believe that his father's death had already been avenged; and that your life, and Mary's, and Riley's had been sufficiently destroyed, that he would leave all of you alone."

"Why not just take him out, Joe? If you knew what he wanted, knew what he was after, why not just send someone in to finish the job? Come on, we both know what the CIA and the SAD are capable of."

Danny's heart broke at the pleading tone in Steve's voice. He knew they were both dreading Joe's answer, because it would betray every last confidence that Steve had in him.

"WoFat is still . . . useful to us. There is a higher purpose to his interaction with the CIA and the SAD. The lives of individuals are secondary to the greater good." Joe's voice was weakening.

Steve looked at him in horror. "You used us. You used my father . . . he sent us away, thinking he was protecting us . . . we were essentially orphans. And Riley . . . Joe, you and my mother . . . you experimented with her. CIA training, SEAL training, computer forensics . . . what the hell were you trying to do to her?"

"We thought that we could start from scratch, create someone who could outsmart WoFat. If I had just had enough time to prepare her, she could have gotten inside his operation, convinced him that she was cooperating with him . . . fed us intel . . . your mother could have come out of hiding."

Steve could barely contain his rage. "WoFat found you before you could put your plan in motion? Is that what you're telling me? You planned all along to turn her over to that son of a bitch; you just needed to get her prepped so that she could serve your purposes when you did it?"

"I'm sorry . . . " Joe said weakly.

Steve paused, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry that we didn't have time to complete the mission . . . "

It took all of Danny's strength to slow Steve down long enough to shout at him.

"Steve! Steve! Wait, you need to ask Joe where WoFat took her. Joe might know where WoFat would take her, Steve."

As security and staff rushed in the room, Steve allowed Danny to push him out into the hallway. Danny and Kono gently but firmly pushed Steve into a small family waiting room.

Danny was prepared for an explosion of anger and rage, so he was shocked when Steve paled and dropped into a chair.

"My mother . . . and Joe . . . " he mumbled, eyes glassy and unfocused. "They knew – they knew all along. They played god, they used her like a gamepiece in their sick, twisted game. I was never supposed to know about her; they would never have told me."

"Steve, we're going to find her, we'll get her back. Chin is going in to talk to Joe, see if he can get any leads at all on where WoFat may have taken her," Kono soothed, cautiously rubbing Steve's shoulders.

"Danny, that bastard has her. WoFat has Riley. He has my sister, Danny, and she's going to do everything she can to resist telling him what he wants to know . . . and this time, he knows for sure that she has the information."

Danny's eyes were full of sympathy. "I know, babe, we're going to find her, I promise."

Kono barely got the trashcan under Steve in time, as he retched violently at the thought of his sister in the hands of WoFat.

* * *

"Okay, Chin, keep me posted," Catherine said, her eyes filling with tears as she hung up the phone. In the few days that she had been with Steve and Riley, she had witnessed the beginning of a hesitant and tentative bond, but she had sensed Steve's affection and protectiveness toward Riley, even before the DNA test. Steve did not handle it well when any of his people were threatened.

Despite her desire to leave immediately and go to the team, she knew that her talents were best employed right where she was: behind a multi-million dollar, highly sensitive, government satellite.

Her fingers rapidly entered commands into the computer, and soon she had pulled up imaging from the coordinates provided by Chin. She scrolled through the footage; Joe entering the building with a reluctant but cooperative Riley, and two other men; then a black SUV pulling up, with six men piling out and entering the building. Two men left, dragging an unconscious Riley between them. Both men were limping, but managed to shove Riley into the back seat and peel away. She started scrolling again, until she got to the footage of Steve and the team breaching the building.

She was back on the phone with Chin. "Chin, they were in a black SUV, and they headed north – so away from the docks, which is good. Maybe they haven't left the island. I'm sending you the plates on the SUV now. And Chin – how many bodies did you say were left in the warehouse?"

Catherine shook her head when Chin repeated that six bodies were left.

"Well, Joe only went in with two. He and Riley somehow managed to take out four of WoFat's henchmen. If any of them are still alive . . ."

Chin didn't stop to explain, he just took off at a dead run toward the emergency room.

When the rest of the team caught up with him, he was already leaning over a man in a hospital bed.

"Tell me where they were taking her," he demanded.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Only two of the six bodies dropped in that warehouse were Joe's men. Four of them were WoFat's – Joe and Riley almost managed to take them all out," Chin explained. Turning his attention to the patient, he once again demanded, "Tell us."

The man just gave a sickening smile.

Steve reached up and pulled the privacy curtain.

"Danny, I think that you, Chin, and Kono need to go check on something in another part of the building. Now."

* * *

WoFat smiled at Riley.

"Are you comfortable, Miss McGarrett?" he asked politely.

"Quite," she bit out, ignoring the trickle of blood coming from the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, my men were instructed to bring you to me unharmed."

"They don't take instruction very well," she said, "or maybe it was the fact that I was busy breaking their kneecaps."

"Ah, yes, it's possible that I underestimated our mother's excellent training for you."

Riley's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, did Uncle Joe not explain it to you? Pity. We have so much in common. You . . . me . . . Steve."

"I don't believe you, and it doesn't matter anyway," Riley said. "I don't know anything more than I did the last time we tried this."

"But you do, Riley, you do. You've been busy. Integrating yourself into Five-O, searching for Uncle Joe, flying to Korea looking for me. I could have saved you the trip, I've been here waiting. I knew that it was too risky to try to get you away from Steve. He's very possessive, Steve is, especially of his sisters. But Joe . . . dear Uncle Joe, he planned to turn you over to me anyway. I just moved up his timetable, caught him off guard."

Riley struggled against her bonds.

"Now, I propose we pick up where we left off," WoFat said, picking up a syringe.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve's _conversation_ with WoFat's man in the emergency room had been . . . productive. Between the intel from Catherine and the additional information, they had their first definitive lead.

Chin flicked the map onto the plasma.

"Okay, Catherine said that the SUV left and headed north; WoFat's man said that he was set up in an old cannery."

"If we assume they didn't change direction, this gives us two most likely locations," Kono said. Red markers appeared over two canneries; one further east and one toward the west.

"Which do we hit, Steve?" Danny asked.

Steve looked at the map for a long moment. "Both," he said. "Get Grover. Danny, you and I will take one team to the west location; Chin, you and Kono take another team to the east location."

Steve paused, braced his arms on the table, and hung his head down.

"You okay, partner?" Danny asked.

Steve straightened and looked directly into the built in camera on one of the plasma screens.

"Agent Fielding," he said, "I'm sure you're watching our every move; you may have backed off at the Governor's request but you're not going to stop surveillance. You know where we're headed. If WoFat is at one of those locations, and you want to give him a warning, by all means, go ahead. If I find my sister, alive, I swear to you that . . . " Steve took a deep breath. "I swear I will not pursue WoFat today. Just . . . stop him before he kills her, please. Give him the information yourselves, I don't care." The rest of the team watched, not daring to breathe, as their leader pleaded for help from an agency he clearly despised.

To their amazement, the tiny green light that indicated the camera was in use blinked twice, and then turned off.

* * *

The distance to the western cannery location would take forty-five minutes under normal circumstances. With lights and sirens, Danny hoped to make it in twenty-five, but even then he wasn't sure that Steve was going to make the trip without spontaneously combusting.

His partner was a wreck; clenching and unclenching his hands, checking and double checking the safety on his gun, his knee twitching, jaw grinding. No wonder he didn't argue and let Danny drive; he must have realized that he would have run them off the road.

"Steve," Danny said, "You're going to do no one any good if you explode. Come on, man, we're going to find her. You gotta think positive, right?"

"I'm thinking we're positively going to find her, Danny," Steve answered.

"There you go, good."

"I'm positive we're going to find her . . . Danny, I'm terrified, absolutely terrified that we're not going to find her alive. This is different; this isn't the random thugs kidnapping Mary to scare her and send me a message. This is WoFat. He is sadistic. He's enjoying playing with us, Danny. He's going to go at her hard, and I don't think he's prepared for her to resist."

"That's good, though, right?" Danny asked.

"No, Danno, it's not good," Steve explained. "Because he won't understand that she's been trained not to give up information, trained to withstand torture. He won't know her limits, and he'll kill her without meaning to, Danny."

"Steve," Danny said slowly, "what do you mean she's been trained to withstand torture?"

"Joe," Steve responded. "In Korea. Part of the WITSEC training she thought she was getting."

"I shoulda let you kill him in that hospital bed," Danny muttered.

* * *

"I understand", WoFat said into the phone. He smiled sadistically and added, "Thank you, Agent Fielding; that's very helpful indeed. No, my men will see to it that I have plenty of time to make a clean exit."

He took off his gloves and tossed them onto the table behind him, littered with syringes. Bending down, he caressed Riley's cheek. She made an unfocused effort to turn her face away from him, but he held her face in a bruising grip.

"Well, well, little one, thank you for our lovely chat. Your big brother is on his way to fetch you. I'll leave you here to listen to the sounds of the gunfire that will end his life and that of his friends. He consistently underestimates the resources at my disposal. Once again, your government has been so incredibly helpful to my cause," he chuckled.

* * *

Chin and Kono arrived with their team to the closer, eastern location. It was completely deserted, with no sign of recent activity. They made a thorough sweep, and when they were satisfied that there was no chance of WoFat being at the location, Chin called it in to Steve.

"Nothing here, brah," he said. "We're going to head to your location."

"Okay, Chin, we're about two minutes out. Come in with caution, we have no idea what we're walking in to."

"Copy that, Steve," C hin answered. He hesitated, then added, "Should we go ahead and call for EMS to that location?"

Steve was silent for a moment.

"I've got my field medic gear, but yeah. Go ahead. Call in EMS, have them on standby. But have them stay back; we don't need any civilian casualties."

"On it," Chin answered.

There was no sense trying to go in quiet; Steve was sure that thanks to Agent Fielding, there would be no element of surprise.

"Is everyone wearing a vest?" he asked, grimly.

They approached cautiously, Steve and Grover communicating with hand signals and getting as many men in place as possible behind the shipping containers and discarded dumpsters that dotted the area surrounding the building.

"Okay, Danny and I are going to try to go in through that door on the west wall, beneath the staircase," Steve decided. "Grover, have your men cover us."

Steve hesitated for a moment. Danny was risking his life, yet again, above and beyond the call of duty.

"Danny, you stay in cover, you hear me? Just get to Riley, don't worry about me, okay?" Steve grabbed the front of Danny's tac vest. He had to make sure Danny was going home to Gracie.

"Steve, we go in together and we bring Riley out together, yeah?" Danny said. "No crazy hero shit from you?"

"This isn't your fight, Danny," Steve said.

"The hell it isn't – if that maniac is loose on the island, then Gracie is in danger, and that makes it my fight. Besides, Riley is ohana . . . that's not a concept that only applies to surfing and Longboards in your backyard, you got that?"

Steve nodded. "Okay, on three. Stick to cover as close as you can, move fast and low."

As soon as they moved free from the first series of shipping containers, the men inside the cannery started using them for target practice. Grover's SWAT team furiously returned fire; Steve was grimly pleased with their accuracy as more than one body fell from the second story windows.

Steve realized that they were clearly still outnumbered and out-positioned, though, as was evidenced by the bullet that just grazed his forearm, and a second one that lodged in the shipping container inches above.

He heard Chin in his earpiece. "Steve, my team has Kono in the second story of the office; directly at your six. I've got five men securing the first floor, I'm coming in at your two o-clock. If we can flush some of these guys out . . . "

"Copy that," Steve said, grinning at Danny. "The cavalry has arrived. Chin has Kono in a sniper's nest."

"Okay, what do you have in mind?" Danny asked, panting from their run across the open lot.

Steve reached into his pockets and pulled out handfuls of flash grenades. "I come prepared, Danno," he said.

"What about Riley?" Danny asked.

"These won't hurt her; she's likely already disoriented. I'm counting on these drawing anyone close to her away. Ready?"

Danny nodded. Chin slid behind the shipping container with them as Grover's men laid down cover fire. He smiled at the grenades in Steve's hand and nodded as well.

"Here goes nothing," he said, and kicked in the door.

The next five minutes were pure, unadulterated chaos, ending with over a dozen Yakuza bleeding and in custody.

Grover was in control of the scene; barking out orders.

"These go to HPD; those go to the hospital. Don't take them to Queens, that's where any Five-O injuries will be taken," he instructed.

"One of yours got clipped, Grover," Kono called from behind him. She was kneeling next to the wounded officer, applying pressure until a paramedic could take over.

Grover jogged over to the injured man. "You okay, Kameka?" he asked.

"I'm good, sir, just a graze," the officer replied.

"Okay, you get that taken care of right away," Grover said, motioning for another officer to come over. "Get him over to Queens, okay, get him sorted."

"Yes, sir," the young officer nodded, relieving Kono of her patient and moving toward a squad car.

"I've got this, Kono, you go on in with your team," Grover nodded his head toward the building.

Kono didn't need to be told twice; she took off at a fast clip across the lot, calling in to Chin as she ran.

"I'm coming in through the same entry point that you used, Chin," she said. "How many still inside? Have you found Riley?"

"We're still clearing the place, be careful, Kono," Chin warned. "I'll double back to you, so we can move in two teams. There are very few clear lines of sight, we're having to move more slowly than we'd like."

'That's an understatement,' Danny thought, as impatient desperation rolled off of Steve in waves.

* * *

He saw the bucket first.

They'd rounded yet another corner in their desperate attempt to clear each section of the cannery. There was a set of stairs, just three or four, that led to a slightly elevated platform; probably used as a supervisor's station when the cannery was in operation.

It put Steve about eye level with the floor, so he saw the bucket first, with the soaked burlap hood partially obscuring Riley's boot.

He saw the IV next.

"Danny!" Steve choked out, holstering his sidearm. He knew without a doubt that Danny would have his six; his only concern at this point was Riley.

He cleared the stairs and knelt next to her, checking for a pulse.

For a moment, he felt nothing. His frantic eyes met Danny's.

Danny looked at Steve's hand on Riley's carotid. His hand was shaking . . . Danny checked the other side.

"She's got a pulse, Steve, I feel it. It's slow, and it's weak, but it's there. Is she breathing?"

Steve listened carefully for breath sounds.

"Yes," he sighed in relief. "Shallow and raspy, but she has steady respiration."

Steve cupped the side of Riley's face gently. Danny saw the flash of rage as he made out finger shaped bruises beneath his hand.

"Riley?" he called softly. There was no response. He gently patted her cheek – still nothing. Hating the idea of it, he pinched her forearm. Maybe a slight twitch? No, nothing. As Danny began to gently cut her free from the duct tape holding her to the chair, Steve gently knuckled her sternum and was rewarded with a faint moan.

Chin and Kono rushed onto the platform. "All clear, Steve; Grover has the scene under control and the building is secure," Chin said.

"Oh no . . . Steve . . . " Kono breathed, her eyes filling with tears as she took in Riley's damp hair, the hood, and the empty bucket.

"She's alive," Steve said grimly, "but I don't know how badly injured."

Danny pulled away the last of the duct tape as Steve carefully removed the IV. Riley collapsed forward into Steve's arms, another faint moan escaping.

"Shhh, Riley, I've got you," Steve murmured.

Chin and Kono pulled out evidence bags and gloves and began collecting the syringes and other items from the table.

"Get the IV bag, too," Steve directed.

"I'll get it all to Malia first, and then to Max," he said.

Steve stood up with Riley in his arms.

"There's still a bus outside, Steve, ready to go," Chin said. "Danny, go with them, Kono and I will follow right behind with this stuff."

Danny kept his gun drawn and covered Steve as he walked out of the building cradling Riley against his chest. She was still alarmingly unresponsive.

Paramedics waved them over to a waiting ambulance, and Steve disappeared into the back with Riley. Danny followed, lights and siren, as they sped toward Queens.

* * *

Danny parked and ran into the emergency entrance.

"My partner brought in a young woman," he said to the staff at the intake desk.

"Five-O, right?" she asked. "Right this way." She led Danny to a small waiting room where Steve was pacing.

"Steve," Danny said, closing the door behind him. He stopped short at the stricken look on Steve's face.

"Whoa, you okay, buddy?" he asked, reaching out a steadying hand to Steve's shoulder.

"She . . . she stopped breathing, Danno," Steve said, in a stunned tone, "She stopped breathing and her heart stopped . . . in the ambulance."

Danny's heart stopped. "Steve – no, oh no . . . "

"They did CPR, used the defibrillator . . . they got a pulse back . . . they intubated her . . . rushed her in here. I don't know anything, no one has come to tell me anything. I can't find her, Danny, I don't know what room she's in . . . I can't find Malia –"

Danny pushed Steve gently into a chair and sat down next to him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Steve, look at me . . . if they got a pulse and they intubated her, then her chances are very, very good, do you hear me? Very good."

"Danny," Steve rasped out, "He's not going to stop. He's going to take everyone away from me."

"No," Danny said firmly, "we are not going to let that happen. I'm going to go find Riley, get some information for you. Stay right here."

Chin and Kono were rushing in when Danny stepped outside the room.

"Danny!" Kono called out. "What's happening? Chin can't find Malia and no one will tell us anything."

"Guys, it's not good," Danny said. "On the way here, Riley's heart stopped and she stopped breathing."

"Oh, no," Chin gasped, his normally unflappable demeanor obviously shaken. He'd witnessed Steve's loss of both his mother and his father . . . he wasn't sure how much more the SEAL could endure.

"They brought her back, but Steve hasn't been told anything else. Let's see if we can find some answers, quickly, before he brings the place down."

* * *

The three team members headed back toward the waiting room with Malia. It was a testament to how truly shaken Steve was, that he hadn't been storming up and down the halls. Danny suspected that he was terrified of what he would find.

Malia went into the room first. Steve jumped to his feet.

"Malia," he said, his voice pleading, "please tell me what's going on."

"Steve, Riley is in ICU. I'm not going to lie, she's in critical condition but we expect her to make a full recovery."

He sank back into a chair. Kono sat down next to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Her heartbeat is almost back to normal, so we are just monitoring that. Her lungs . . . she's on a respirator right now. She had water in her lungs and her airway was – well, there was damage."

"Waterboard," Steve gritted out. "What else? What other injuries? And why did her heart stop?"

"There is indication of additional electrocution, Steve. We found multiple circular burns that look like typical taser burns on her lower back."

"Multiple?" Danny asked.

"At least seven distinct sets," Malia said. "There were also numerous superficial lacerations, some severe bruising. A few small bones broken in her left hand; her shoulder was dislocated at some point, we believe."

"Probably in the fight with Joe," Danny said. "She gave 'em hell."

Chin swallowed hard against sudden nausea. "Were you able to determine what was in the IV, Malia?" he asked.

Malia nodded. "I'm afraid it's not good news, either. The IV was a saline delivery system; the syringes appear to all have been doses of Ketamine. Massive doses, I'm afraid. It certainly contributed to her respiratory failure. As the drug wears off –"

Steve cut her off with a mumbled curse. "I know, Malia. I've – there was an op. In Afghanistan."

Danny and Kono exchanged worried glances.

"We're not letting Steve go through this with Riley alone, so you may as well tell us what to expect," Danny said, as Kono nodded in agreement.

"As the ketamine wears off, Riley will experience muscle spasms, hallucinations, and disorientation. She's also likely to suffer both amnesia and flashbacks – she may not be able to consciously remember what happened, but unfortunately, she'll relive it in flashbacks. I hate to say this, but from a perspective of collecting evidence, you'll . . . well, you'll have to observe the flashbacks."

"I don't give a damn about evidence," Steve said. "we know who did this and why. Can't you just sedate her? Until the drugs wear off?"

"I wish we could, Steve," Malia said gently. "Any sedation would further depress her respiratory system and we just can't risk it. We need to get her off that ventilator as soon as possible; her airways are already irritated, raw, and the tube is just going to make it worse. I'm so sorry, but we can't give her anything stronger than Tylenol right now. Even stronger NSAIDs, like Motrin, will promote bleeding in her esophagus, and cause further damage."

Chin placed a steadying hand on Steve.

"Look, she is unconscious at the moment, but she will be coming around soon, since we can't sedate her," Malia explained. "I know you all carry go-bags with you; why don't you take a few moments, get cleaned up. I'll clear you to use the doctors' locker room. I'll be with Riley, if she starts to come around before you get there, she won't wake up alone, okay? And, Steve – we need to dress that wound on your arm."

* * *

A kind orderly was waiting for them outside the doctors' locker room, and led them to Riley's room. Malia had arranged for a private room, with four comfortable chairs. She was outside the door, waiting for them.

"You shouldn't all be here at once, for the most part, but I know how you operate; there's going to be time that you need to be together. I can only imagine the paperwork on this one. I'll give you a few minutes, then I'll send in an intern to stitch up that arm, Steve."

"Malia," Steve said, "thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome," she said warmly. "I'm so sorry that you and Riley are here again. Riley's cleaned up, stitched up, and still out of it for now. Go on in, be there for her when she comes around. I'll be back in a while; I'll have some food sent in for you."

Steve thought that Malia's description of Riley's injuries had prepared him; he was mistaken.

"Oh, dear God . . . "he whispered, as he entered the room.

Three long strides had him at Riley's bedside. The nurses had carefully cleaned and dressed her minor wounds; still, the split lip and vicious bruising from WoFat's harsh grip stood out in sharp contrast to her pallor. Steve brushed her hair back from her face and gently kissed her forehead.

"Hey, Riley," he murmured. "Your family is here. You're safe, and everything is going to be okay."

Danny pushed one of the chairs close to the bed. Steve smiled at him in thanks, and sat down, taking Riley's least injured hand in his own. He squeezed her hand gently, hoping for a response.

"Anything?" Danny asked quietly.

"Not yet," Steve shook his head.

Danny stepped to the opposite side of Riley's bed, and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, kid. You scared your big brother to death, you know that? I think he has at least a dozen new gray hairs. Rest up, and when you feel better, we'll tease him about that, okay?" He gently rubbed her shoulder, frowning when her hospital gown slipped down to reveal the scars on her collarbone.

"Steve?" he asked, nodding toward the scars. "These look old . . . "

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "Part of Joe's WITSEC training that I told you about."

Danny backed away, horrified.

Chin stepped up behind Steve, and squeezed his uninjured shoulder. "She's tough, like her big brother. She's gonna be just fine, Steve. We're all here to make sure of that."

"Steve, do you mind –" Kono had retrieved a small tin of coconut oil out of her bag. "This stuff is amazing for scarring; I've used it on my knee, the graze on my shoulder. It even works on old scars."

"That'd be great, Kono, thanks," Steve said, smiling up at her. He'd never given much thought to scars, but it figured that Kono would have a more feminine perspective.

Kono murmured softly in pidgin as she gently applied the coconut oil to the old burn scars, and then to the cut on her lip, and the older cut over her eyebrow that was starting to heal. When she finished, she smiled at Steve, her eyes shining with tears. "I really look forward to becoming friends with your sister, Steve," she said. "I'll teach her to surf. And we are so gonna prank you, brah."

Steve couldn't help but laugh. Kono was a breath of fresh air in their team.

A quiet knock on the door let them know that the intern was there to look at Steve's arm.

"No, don't get up," he said, coming in with a suture kit and tray. "You're fine right where you are."

Removing the gauze pad that Steve had hastily slapped on his arm after his shower, the intern grinned. "Missed the ink, brah, nice."

"Least of my worries, but good to know," Steve smiled at him. "Thanks for coming up."

"Yeah, Dr. Waincroft said it would take wild horses to drag you out of this room, so I may as well come up. She wants me to check the split knuckles on your sister, too; see if she needs stitches there before they cast her hand," he added.

He quickly finished stitching up Steve's arm and then turned his attention to Riley's hand.

Chin gave a low whistle as he pulled away the qauze. The white bone of two knuckles was visible through the split skin.

"Ok, yeah, that's going to do better with stitches," the intern said, opening a fresh suture pack. "Girl must have a wicked punch; I'd hate to see the other guys."

Riley stirred and whimpered as he probed her battered knuckles. She tightened her grip on Steve's hand.

"Hey, there," he said softly. "It's okay; you busted up your hand on some asshole's face, no doubt. They're going to stitch it up for you, okay? I'm right here."

Riley's eyes twitched violently and she tried to pull her hand away from the intern. She jerked her other hand away from Steve and moved as if to grab at the ventilator tube.

Danny quickly stepped over to the bedside. While Steve restrained Riley's hand from the ventilator, Danny gently took her injured hand in his.

"Riley, you're on a ventilator, so don't try to talk or pull out the tube, okay? We'll talk to Malia when you're more awake about when that can come out," Steve said.

Danny held Riley's injured hand in his own, and placed his other hand gently on the back of her wrist. "Hey, kid, I'm just going to hold your hand steady for the nice intern, okay? Make sure he gets your stitches in straight, yeah?"

Danny addressed the intern quietly. "We know she can't have narcotics – can you give her something local while you stitch her up?"

The intern nodded. "Absolutely; I'll use the usual lidocaine for this." The intern went to work quickly, and Riley drifted back off before he was quite finished.

Grover stopped by with an update.

"No sign of WoFat, Steve, I'm sorry," he said. "We got guys out as quickly as possible, set up a perimeter radius. He slipped through, somehow."

Steve had promised that he wouldn't go after WoFat today – naturally, he couldn't speak for other law enforcement agencies. WoFat was wanted for a multitude of crimes, after all.

Steve sighed. "Thanks, Grover, you did what you could. What's the damage, otherwise?"

"I had one officer with a minor bullet graze to the shoulder. Otherwise, all injuries and fatalities were on the opposing team. We did good today. That Kono – she's an amazing shot. Watch out, I'll poach her away to SWAT."

"Not a chance, brah," Chin said, quietly joining them in the hallway. "Grover, Kono and I will go back to HQ, help you sort out the paperwork. Steve, I know there'll be no convincing you to leave, but the rest of us will rotate in shifts. I'll swing by your house, bring you anything you need."

"Thanks, Chin," Steve said, exhaustion creeping in to his voice.

"Get some rest, my man, you're going to need it," Grover advised.


	8. Chapter 8

Like anyone trained for combat, Steve knew to give his body a chance to rest while he had it. He'd managed to drift off into a light doze in the chair next to Riley's bed.

He was still holding her hand when she went into the first muscle spasm. Instantly alert, he pressed the call button for the nurse.

"What is it, Steve?" Danny asked, getting up quickly from his chair where he had also dozed off.

"She's having muscle spasms," Steve explained, wincing as Riley put a crushing grip on his hand.

Her eyes flew open, looking around in unfocused, wild panic. Steve gently cupped her face in his other hand and tried to get her to look at him.

"Riley, I'm right here. Look at me," he commanded gently.

Her eyes were filled with pain and panic. She grabbed at the tube in her throat, pulling on the stitches in her hand. Danny gently moved her hand away from her throat.

"No, sweetheart, don't try to take that out," Steve said. "You're having a muscle spasm; I've called the nurse. Riley, you have to trust me, I know this is awful, but it will pass, okay? Hang in there, hang on to me and Danny."

Her body arched off the bed as the muscles in her back and shoulders seized violently. Steve continued to talk her through it, switching back and forth between English, Japanese, and Korean.

Danny raised his eyebrows in question.

Steve shrugged, "I'm not sure how much she understands right now, Danny. She's fluent in three languages."

The nurse came into the room and took in the scene.

"What can I do for our patient?" she said. Grabbing Riley's chart, she glanced through it.

"Her muscles have started seizing," Steve said. "Can you give her anything? A muscle relaxant?"

The nurse shook her head. "I don't think so . . . let me get the attending to come check and see where we are with the ventilator, okay? And in the meantime, just keep doing what you're doing."

She stepped out of the room and returned with a blanket from the warmer in the hall. "Here, keep her warm, that will help."

Steve and Danny tucked the blanket around Riley.

"You told Malia that you'd had a run-in with the Keta – Ket . . . " Danny started.

"Ketamine," Steve supplied. "Yeah."

"Classified?"

"The op is classified, yeah. I was injured, had to be stitched up pretty good. Ketamine is an anesthetic of choice in the field. Fast acting. They had to give me a lot, though, because the damage was more extensive than they first thought, took them a while to finish sewing me up. Coming off the stuff – Danny, it was awful. Hallucinations, the muscle spasms. I damn near tore out the stitches they'd just put in. Apparently I had an exceptionally bad reaction to it," Steve explained.

"Ah, and you're afraid Riley will, too," Danny put the pieces together.

"Malia said she'd been given massive amounts," Steve said.

Danny nodded. "I'm sorry, babe," he said, his eyes filled with sadness for his friend.

"She'll be okay, Danny," Steve said.

"I believe that," Danny answered. "Wasn't just talking about her."

Steve felt the pressure on his hand increasing as Riley seemed to curl in on herself, turning on her side, her knees drawing up toward her chest as the large muscles of her legs contracted violently. Steve rubbed her legs lightly, not wanting to add to her discomfort but trying to encourage the muscles to relax. It seemed to help, and as her body relaxed she opened her eyes again.

Steve heaved a sigh of relief as her eyes focused on his and he saw a glimmer of recognition.

"Hey, there you are, that's my girl," he said, kissing her forehead.

She let go of his hand and made a purposeful motion toward the tube in her throat.

"Yeah, you're on a vent. Got a little water in your lungs this morning. You're in the hospital, you're safe."

She reached out a shaky hand and touched the bandage on Steve's arm.

"Just a graze, couple of stitches. I'm fine."

She pointed to the empty chairs behind Steve.

"Rest of the team is fine. Danny's right behind you."

Danny came around to stand beside Steve. "Hey, kid, welcome back," he said, pulling the warm blanket more securely around her.

A quiet knock on the door indicated the attending physician's arrival.

"Good afternoon, Riley," she said, slipping her reading glasses on and checking Riley's chart. "I see you've been having some muscle spasms; that's to be expected. It's good to see you alert. Let me look at the numbers on your breathing, okay?" The doctor studied the oxygen saturation levels and respiration data.

"Okay, it looks like Riley is breathing almost entirely on her own at this point; the ventilator has only kicked on for a few seconds here and there in the last hour; probably during a muscle spasm. I think we can safely pull this tube out now, which will make her much more comfortable. I'll have the respiratory team come in," she said, making notes on the chart. "Can you step outside for a moment, Commander McGarrett?"

As they stepped into the hall, the doctor continued. "This is a great step in the right direction, but I'm sorry to say that while she's breathing on her own, her respiration is still weak and shallow. We won't be able to give her much by the way of pain relief or sedation. I'm sorry, but it would slow her breathing and we can't risk her going into respiratory arrest again."

Steve sighed. "I understand. What can we do? How long will this go on?"

"The muscle spasms should start to subside in a few hours, and will steadily decrease as the ketamine flushes from her system. We will keep her on IV fluids to help dilute it as much as possible. You'll need to just keep doing what you're doing; talk her through it, keep her warm, apply gentle pressure to whichever muscle group seems to be seizing."

"She has other injuries as well," Steve said. "Can we do anything to provide pain relief?"

The doctor flipped through the chart again. "I can send in topical anesthetic for the taser burns on her lower back," she said. "Unfortunately, I can't offer more than ice packs for her hand. We'll put it in a removable splint as soon as some of the swelling goes down."

"Okay, I understand," Steve said wearily.

"Listen," the doctor hesitated, then continued. "Obviously you are her primary care-giver; I know you're also the head of Five-O . . . who's taking care of you, while you take care of everything else?"

Steve smiled at the doctor. "I appreciate your concern, doctor. My team is my family; we take care of each other."

"Good," the doctor smiled warmly. "Make sure you let them do their job then, okay? Alright; respiratory team should be here soon to take out that vent. We'll talk again after."

Danny and Steve had coaxed Riley through another muscle spasm when the respiratory team showed up. Danny winced in sympathy as Steve flexed his fingers, bruised from Riley's death grip.

"Okay, let's get this out," the respiratory therapist suggested to Riley. "How's that sound?"

Riley nodded weakly.

"Alright, on the count of three, I want you to cough really, really hard for me. Ready? One, two, three –there we go, cough, cough," he coaxed, as he gently pulled the ventilator tube from Riley's throat.

She coughed violently, eyes widening in alarm as a generous spray of blood came out along with the tube.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked in alarm.

"There was a lot of irritation, even before we vented her," the therapist explained. "The vent tube didn't help. There's a lot of bleeding but it's superficial . . . it's one of the reasons she can't tolerate a lot of painkillers, though, that would exacerbate the bleeding. Here's some ice chips, and we'll make sure the nurses keep you well stocked, that will make her much more comfortable."

As the respiratory team left, Steve spooned some ice chips into Riley's mouth. Danny got a wet cloth and gently wiped the fine mist of blood that had settled on her face.

"Steve?" she croaked.

"Yeah, sis?" Steve smiled at her.

"What the hell . . . " she frowned. "I don't remember . . . "

"Shh, it's okay," Steve said.

"No, it's not," she rasped out, becoming agitated. "What aren't you telling me? What happened? How did you get hurt?"

Steve gave her more ice. "What do you remember, starting with this morning?"

"You were swimming," she started, brow furrowing in concentration.

Steve's shoulders dropped, a pained expression crossing his face.

"Don't even go there, babe," Danny said quietly. "This isn't on you."

"I was watching you. I know that sounds creepy, but I was just . . . I remember because I was thinking how nice it was not to be alone, you know?" Riley looked down, picking at a thread on the blanket with her good hand.

Steve smiled. "Yeah, I do know. I was thinking the same thing as I came back toward the house and then, I got back and the officers were down, and you were gone, and . . . Riley, I'm so, so sorry. I should have been there, I shouldn't have left you."

"Joe was there. He had a mission for me. I don't remember . . . there was a computer. What were we doing? He said it would help, he promised . . . " her voice cracked.

"It's okay, Riley," Steve said, giving her more ice.

Riley started to continue, and then her eyes widened in pain once more, as the muscles in her back and shoulders started to spasm. She grabbed Steve's hand and let out a string of expletives. Danny couldn't keep the amused smile from his face as he stepped into the hall to grab another warm blanket.

"Okay, yeah, that's my girl," Steve said, gently rubbing her shoulders as she curled onto her side.

Danny placed the warm blanket around her back as she tried valiantly not to cry out in pain. She was gritting her teeth so hard that Steve could hear them grinding.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to try to be brave. I've been through this, I know how bad it hurts," he whispered. "You have nothing to prove, not to me or Danny."

"Riley can handle it," a voice said from the doorway. "She's been trained for this her whole life, haven't you, Riley? Now you understand why I pushed you so hard. Lock it down, sailor."

In all the years Danny had worked with Steve, and in all the high-stress, high-threat situations they had found themselves in, he'd never seen the SEAL move with such intensity. His teasing about Steve being a ninja was forgotten – he was pretty sure Steve had cleared the bed and had Joe in a choke-hold against the wall before he even blinked. Danny stepped in behind Riley and took over, pressing the warm blanket against her shoulders.

"Don't. Ever. Speak. To her. Again." Steve gritted out, his voice a menacing growl that made the hair on Danny's neck stand up. "You don't get to speak to her. You don't get to be in the same room with her. You don't get to share oxygen with her, you arrogant bastard. You're the reason she's here."

"Are you sure about that, son?" Joe wheezed out, as Steve's muscled forearm pressed into his windpipe. "I'm not the one who went out for a swim, left her alone and defenseless."

Danny saw Steve flinch, and hated Joe for the low blow. Riley was starting to relax under his hands. He came around to stand between her and the men struggling against the wall.

"Oh, she's anything but defenseless," Danny spat out. "We counted the bodies coming in and going out of your little computer lab this morning; seeing as how you found yourself tied up, we can only assume that Riley did most of that damage. No, Riley is perfectly capable, you son of a bitch; your so-called training did see to that much. But you took advantage of what makes Riley who she really is – the DNA that she shares with Steve, that has her hard-wired and hell-bent to protect the people she loves. That's why you really kept her isolated and squirreled away all these years, isn't it? You knew that was the only way you could possibly control her."

Steve had never been so thankful for one of Danny's rants. He allowed himself to absorb the truth of Danny's words and pressed one millimeter harder on Joe's neck.

"Wait," Joe wheezed out, " we need to know what she revealed to WoFat. We need to know what information she gave up. How many people did you compromise, Riley?"

Danny heard Riley gasp and turned to her, just barely grabbing a basin in time to put it in front of her as she retched violently in response to Joe's words. "Steve!" he shouted, as a scary amount of blood mixed with the meager contents of her stomach was violently expelled into the basin.

Steve spun Joe around and pushed him face first into the wall, his muscles bulging and threatening his fresh stitches. "What did I say about speaking to her, old man?" he growled. He flung the door open and pushed Joe into the hallway, calling for a nurse as he slapped handcuffs on Joe.

Chin and Kono rounded the corner, taking in the scene before them with alarm.

Kono rushed into the room behind the nurse, while Chin firmly removed Joe from Steve's grasp. The last thing he needed was more paperwork for dead people today, and he did not like the look in Steve's eyes.

"What's going on, Steve?" he demanded.

"Joe White is now under arrest for kidnapping, that's what's going on. I've decided to press charges on behalf of Riley McGarrett, who he kidnapped from my residence this morning. Add to that two counts of assault on HPD SWAT officers. Book him, get him out of my sight," Steve spat.

Chin sighed. "Come on, then, Joe . . . I don't think you're actually well enough to leave the hospital, though it would give me great pleasure to throw you in a cell right this minute." Chin marched Joe down the hallway, calling for HPD to come to the hospital to process a prisoner as he did so.

Danny stepped outside Riley's room and stood for a moment, watching Steve as he shook with rage, giving him a moment to collect himself.

"She okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, the nurse and Kono are getting her cleaned up," Danny answered.

"That was a lot of blood, Danny," Steve said.

"I know it looked that way, scared me to death," Danny replied, "but the nurse said it's okay. Some was from the vent, some from the irritation . . . " he hesitated.

"Her esophagus is irritated and bleeding. From where WoFat waterboarded her earlier today, to retaliate against me," Steve said flatly, "and to get information about our mother, who is probably a CIA agent." He groaned, reaching for his phone as it buzzed.

"Yeah, McGarrett," he said, leaning against the wall.

Danny waited as Steve listened intently for a few moments.

"Thanks, Chin," he said as he thumbed his phone off. "Okay, so Joe, in a rare moment of humanity, told Chin that he'd only gotten as far as informing Riley that he wanted her to plant a deep history that would implicate our father as Shelburne. He hadn't actually told her that Shelburne was . . . is . . . our mother. So, Riley couldn't possibly have given up that information – she still didn't know it."

"Then why the hell . . . "Danny asked, incredulous.

"Because, Danny, he's been playing god and playing mind games so long he's crossed the line. He's worried about protecting himself now. But apparently seeing Riley . . . all that blood . . ." Steve swallowed hard. Joe wasn't the only one deeply shaken by that image.

"Well, don't expect me to have much sympathy for him – one moment of humanity doesn't even begin to balance his ledger, as far as I'm concerned. At least we can tell Riley that she didn't know much more than she did before - that should make her feel better," Danny said.

"She's out," Kono said softly as Steve and Danny went back in the room. "The nurse said she's just exhausted, not to be worried. Oh, she reminded me though, that because of the ketamine, she's likely to wake up very confused for a while."

Kono handed Steve and Danny each one of the coffees she'd brought in with her.

"Where'd Chin go?" she asked.

"Chin went to process Joe White. He's under arrest for kidnapping and assault," Steve said darkly.

Kono wisely decided not to discuss Joe any further. "Danny," she said, "Why don't you head out? Go spend a little time with Gracie, call it a day? I'll hang out here, make sure Steve eats and gets a break."

Danny stretched, joints popping from the abuse they'd suffered in the last day or so.

"Steve, you need anything else from me before I take Kono up on that offer? " Danny asked.

Steve grabbed Danny in a rough hug. "No, partner, you've gone above and beyond once again. Thank you so much, Danny, for everything."

Danny leaned down and kissed Riley on the forehead. "Rest up, kid," he whispered, brushing the hair back from her face. Kono and the nurse had washed her hair and it was still damp. Frowning, he gently pulled her hair to one side and deftly wove it into a braid. Kono smiled and handed him a hair tie fished from her pocket.

"You're very talented, Danny," she smiled at him.

"I am, and often underappreciated," he quipped. "Okay, then, my damage here is done. I will see you tomorrow, Steve, unless you need me sooner."

Steve waved Danny out the door and then paced next to Riley's bed; he was still far too keyed up from his altercation with Joe to sit down.

Kono sat down next to Riley and let Steve try to burn off some of his nervous energy. She was just about to suggest he talk a long walk somewhere else when Riley let out a low moan and curled in on herself again. Kono reached for her hands and held them gently, while Steve rubbed her shoulders. He could feel the muscles spasm violently beneath his hands.

"Okay, Riley, it's okay. Just ride it out, try to breathe," he murmured to her. As she struggled against the pain, the back of her gown fell open, and Steve saw the cluster of electrical burns on her lower back.

A pained gasp escaped him, and Kono looked up at him quizzically.

"You, um, still have that coconut stuff, Kono?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, why – oh . . . " Kono followed his line of vision. "Damn him," she said with feeling.

Riley trembled beneath his hands as the spasm ended.

"Riley," Steve said quietly, as he continued to rub her shoulders. "Kono is going to put some anesthetic that the doctor left, and some coconut oil, on your back, okay?

Riley nodded wearily. She flinched at Kono's first gentle touch on her back, but then relaxed visibly as the medicine took the edge off the pain.

"Thank you, Kono," she rasped.

"This will get better, Riley," Steve assured her. "Malia said that the muscle spasms would decrease."

"Everything is fuzzy . . .I don't remember what happened after I started working for Joe. Joe said that I was with WoFat, I don't understand. Why can't I remember? What happened, Steve, did I compromise you or anyone else?" Riley was starting to panic.

"Shh, no, Riley, you didn't. Joe only told you that he wanted you to create a false trail that would implicate our father as Shelburne. You had started to work on that, but he hadn't told you the true identity of Shelburne," Steve said.

"You know who Shelburne is now?" Riley said, alarmed. "WoFat will keep tracking you down."

"Riley, listen to me, you need to let me handle this, okay? We have some help with dealing with WoFat. I'm working out the details. And the only thing that you possibly could have told WoFat is that you were creating a false lead. That doesn't hurt anyone, sweetheart, you didn't say or do anything that could hurt anyone, okay?"

Riley collapsed into the bed in relief. Steve shook his head as he thumbed away a tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. Her own pain she suffered without complaint; but relief that she hadn't compromised anyone else's safety was what moved her to tears.

"But, we need to . . . Steve, we have to find him, what if he goes after someone else on the team," Riley protested. Kono had to move quickly to keep her from pulling out her IV.

"What . . . where do you think you're going, Riley?" Steve asked incredulously.

"We have to move, we have to warn . . . "Riley broke off with a pained gasp as she bumped the fractured bones in her hand against her bed rail.

Steve moved directly into her line of vision. "Riley," he said, in an authoritative tone that had Kono sitting up straight. "Stand down. I'm handling it."

Riley looked at him in confusion and panic.

Steve gentled his voice as he straightened out Riley's blankets and tucked them securely around her. "Riley, WoFat pumped you full of ketamine. He waterboarded you and electrocuted you. You're a mess right now, but you're going to be okay. In the meantime, you need to let me handle the case, and handle WoFat. You're safe. The team is safe. You need to concentrate on getting better, okay?"

She nodded doubtfully but settled back under the covers. Steve gave her some more ice chips and she sucked on them gratefully.

"But what about . . . "

"Nope," Steve said, interrupting her.

Riley coughed painfully, frowning at the taste of blood in her mouth. "Yuck," she rasped.

Steve held out another spoonful of ice chips and grabbed an empty cup. "Let them melt a little, rinse, and spit," he instructed.

Riley raised her eyebrows at him in silent question.

"Lots of sand on one of my deployments. Irritated the hell out of my lungs," he explained.

Riley spit in the cup. "Gross," she said weakly, and then squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as another spasm wracked her lower back. Steve pulled the blanket around her securely and gently rubbed her back, pleased that the muscles didn't feel as tense as before.

"How about another story?" he asked, trying to give her something else to focus on besides WoFat and pain.

She nodded. "First girlfriend," she gritted out.

"Oh, low blow, Riley," Steve protested. "Like I'm going to say no to you in a hospital bed . . . that's sneaky," he teased.

"I approve," Kono chimed in.

Steve sighed. "Okay, so it was in the spring of my freshman year at Annapolis . . . what, Kono? I was a late bloomer, nothing wrong with that . . . "

Riley drifted off again before Steve got very far, and no amount of pleading from Kono could get him to finish.

"It's going to be a long night, Kono," he said gently. "Why don't you get Chin to drop you off home, or crash at his place? I'll be fine here with Riley, really."

Kono protested but Steve convinced her that with WoFat still on the loose, it was important for Five-O to be ready for action, and when Chin and Malia stopped by on their way out, Kono reluctantly left with them. Steve quickly ate the simple meal they'd brought for him, and then settled in the chair next to Riley's bed to try to get some rest.

* * *

The nurse slipped in quietly; so quietly that she did not wake Steve as he dozed, exhausted, by Riley's bed. Her good hand was clutched in his, and she was sleeping peacefully for the moment.

The nurse double checked the order, picked up a syringe, and started to draw the requested blood sample. Before she had any idea what had happened, she found herself staring up at the ceiling, Riley's forearm wrapped securely around her neck. The nurse's feet scrambled for purchase and leverage, but Riley had her bent back awkwardly over the bed rail, and as dark spots started to swim in front of her eyes, she realized that Riley had wrangled the needle from her and was holding it like a weapon against her neck.

"Riley," Steve said, fully awake but speaking quietly and not moving. "Riley, you're in the hospital. That's a nurse; she was just trying to help you. Let go. You're safe, it's okay."

Riley loosened her hold on the nurse marginally; the nurse relaxed and made eye contact with Steve, who nodded at her gently. He could tell that she would make things easier by not struggling; good, she must have had experience with traumatized patients.

"No," Riley said, shaking her head. Her eyes were glazed and her voice was shaking. "No more needles. Tell me how to get out."

"Riley, you're safe, you don't need to get out," Steve repeated, cautiously reaching toward the needle clutched in her fist and dangerously close to the nurse's neck. His reflexes were faster than Riley's, especially while she was drugged and disoriented, and he firmly pulled her hand away and twisted the needle out of her fingers. She made a low sound of pain, deep in her throat, and he winced as he realized he may have torn the stitches.

"This is a nurse, she's not going to hurt you. Let go, okay?" Steve murmured, leaning forward but not standing up. Towering over her would just make her feel more threatened. "Riley, where do you think you are right now?"

She blinked, and relaxed her hold on the nurse a bit more. "I don't know," she said, disoriented. Her eyes darted from the nurse, to the door, to Steve. "There was . . . there were windows, and it smelled like fish," she said, looking around the room.

"You were there earlier," Steve said patiently. "Now you're in a hospital. I'm right here with you."

"WoFat," Riley gasped, tightening her hold on the nurse again. "He's coming back, we have to get out, we have to get away . . . " she started to struggle, pushing the weight of the nurse off. The nurse regained her footing and quietly and calmly backed away from the bed.

"Commander McGarrett," the nurse said very quietly, "I'm going to go notify the doctor; we may need to have . . . something prepared. Are you okay with her?"

Steve nodded gratefully at the nurse, who slipped quietly out the door. He turned his attention back to Riley. Blood was seeping through the bandage on her hand and she was struggling to get out of the bed. Her feet tangled in the sheets, and she cried out as pain radiated from the electrical burns scattered across her lower back.

"He'll be back; he'll be back any minute and I can't . . . it's too much, it hurts too much and I can't . . . " Riley's breathing was rapid and shallow and she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Riley, no," Steve said, gently pressing her shoulders back onto the bed. "Look . . . take a deep breath and look around. See, you're in a hospital."

She blinked again, her eyes darting unfocused around the room, and finally settling back on Steve. He was the only thing in the entire universe that made sense so she decided just to focus on him.

"WoFat knows," she said, her eyes widening in alarm. "He knows you're my brother . . . did I tell him?"

"No, no, he already knew," Steve said. He grabbed the cup of ice and held out a spoonful to Riley. She took it automatically, her eyes still full of panic, but fixed resolutely on Steve.

Her breathing was still much too fast, so Steve gently gripped her shoulders and started to talk her down.

"Riley," he said quietly, but with authority. "You're breathing too fast, and it's adding to your confusion. I want you to slow down your breathing, and that's going to slow down your heart rate. You'll feel less panic and I you'll be able to think more clearly. Okay? You've been trained to do this. Just let your training take over - no, don't worry about remembering, just trust me. I'm going to count with you, and your body will remember how to do this, even if you think you don't. Ready? Look at me. Slow, steady count, breathe in on even numbers and out on odd numbers."

Steve was counting on Joe's training and sure enough, even though Riley didn't consciously remember, she was easily able to match her breathing to Steve's and within moments, her breathing and heart rate slowed. With the decrease in panic, came clarity, and Steve saw it in her hazel eyes, mirrors of his own, as all of the pieces slotted together.

"Fucking son of a bitch," she said quietly. "Where the hell is he, Steve?"

"WoFat?" he asked. "HPD tried going after him, but he slipped through."

"No. Joe. Where is the lying, manipulative bastard? You know, don't you. He was going to force me to go with WoFat once I created the back history to make it look like your father was Shelburne. Joe's been planning this for years. That's what all of the training in Korea was for, this was his plan all along," her voice was strong now, but still raspy from the damage.

Steve held out another spoonful of ice. "Our father," he said softly.

Riley looked at him quizzically.

" _Our_ father, Riley," he continued. "Remember? Full siblings. The DNA says so. And yes, I know that Joe's plan was to send you in to WoFat's organization. I don't know how he thought he would get away with it."

"I would have volunteered," Riley said, looking down and fidgeting with the blanket.

Steve felt a curl of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. "Why? Riley, you know you have a home here with us . . . with me. I know it's a lot to take in, but this is where you belong now."

"No, it's not that," she said quickly. "I would have volunteered, because Joe . . . the people he's involved with, Steve, they have a long reach. They can get to anyone, make anything happen, I couldn't risk . . . he threatened everyone. At your house, he said he had two snipers. That's why I went with him. And when I argued with him about infiltrating WoFat's organization, he threatened Chin, and Kono, and Danny . . . Steve, he threatened to take Danny's little girl away from him, and I couldn't . . . I would never let that happen, never. I would have gone willingly."

Steve stood up and paced, rubbing his hand over his face in a gesture that Riley recognized as frustration. He wanted to go find Joe and beat him all over again.

"I was relieved . . . " Riley said quietly. "When WoFat's men came, I was relieved. I'd rather have gone in as a prisoner and Joe not be able to threaten . . . it was better that way."

Steve stared at her in disbelief.

"You know I'm right," she said, a bit defensively. "It minimized the risk to innocent people. Really, given the situation, it was the best possible outcome."

"Riley, he tortured you," Steve said, his voice breaking. "How is that the best possible outcome?"

She shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled against burns and bruises. "It kept everyone else in the clear. The only problem is, I can't remember how much I told him. He had me so pumped full of drugs, it's a little hazy. I don't remember much of anything. So, you know, it's fine. I'll be just fine'; I don't even remember it."

"Liar," Steve whispered, coming to sit next to her, brushing her hair gently out of her face again. He grabbed a pillow and propped her hand on it, frowning at the blood still seeping through the bandage. "You're lying, Riley. You have the same tell as Mary; you blink funny and tilt your head to the side," he continued, gently removing the bandage from her hand, and pressing the call button for the nurse.

"I don't remember what I told him," Riley insisted quietly. "That's the truth, Steve. It scares the shit out of me, because I don't know how much of Joe's plan I revealed."

"I know," Steve said nodding. He cupped his hand gently around Riley's face, his thumb brushing over the bruises left by WoFat's hand. "But that's not what you're lying about. You remember, Riley. You remember what he did to you. I can see it in your eyes, and it's killing me."

Riley's eyes filled with tears and as Steve pulled her gently toward him, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head, and one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm so sorry, Riley," he murmured.

"We have to stop them, Steve," she said. "Before they go after your team, or Mary."

"We will, I promise," Steve said.

A voice came in over the nurse's call button. "Sorry for the delay. This is Riley's nurse. Commander McGarrett, what do you need?"

"I'm afraid a couple of the stitches on Riley's hand are torn and bleeding," Steve said, his voice full of regret. "Could someone come in and take a look?"

"Absolutely. I'll have an intern in as soon as possible," the nurse replied.

Riley looked down at her hand. "Did I do this?"

"No," Steve said, his strong fingers gentle on her arm. "I did, when I pulled the needle out of your hand."

The memory rushed back and Riley gasped in dismay. "Oh, no, that poor nurse. Did I hurt her? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Steve assured her, turning as the intern came in the door.

By the time the intern was done repairing the stitches, the doctor had come to check on Riley and declared that enough of the Ketamine had been flushed from her system, that it would be safe to administer some heavy-duty pain relief.

"No, I need to be able to help, I need to be able to think clear enough to figure out -"

Steve cut her off. "Riley. What you need is to let them give you something for the pain, so you can get some rest."

"It's not so bad, really," she protested.

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, equal parts amused and frustrated. She sighed. Right. Steve could tell when she was lying.

Riley flinched when the intern turned her arm to start a new IV.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, realizing that something had spooked her. He stepped back a bit and looked at Steve, who sat down next to Riley and carefully took her injured hand in his.

"He needs to start a new IV, Riley," Steve said. "That okay?"

"Of course," she said, "it's fine. I'm fine. Go ahead."

The intern poked and prodded for a bit, and Steve realized that Riley's breathing was becoming rapid and shallow again.

 _Shit,_ he thought. _WoFat had started an IV . . ._

"Riley, look at me," Steve instructed. "I know, that bastard hooked you up to an IV . . . I get it, Riley. But you're safe. I'm right here, Riley."

"I'm sorry," the intern apologized again. "The veins have been damaged. I'm having a hard time . . . "

Steve felt a flash of rage. WoFat probably started the damn IV himself, and he hadn't been any too careful about it. Steve crossed the room in two long strides and scrubbed his hands thoroughly at the sink. He grabbed a pair of gloves from the dispenser over the sink and turned to the intern.

"Let me, okay?"

The intern looked at him skeptically.

"Look, she's tense and that's not helping. It's a long story, but she was kidnapped and given drugs via IV earlier. I'm trained for this, believe me, I've started IVs in far worse circumstances. You're welcome to go check with Dr. Waincroft; she can vouch for my training. And I'm Riley's next-of-kin; it's in her chart."

The intern nodded and left the room.

"Okay, kid, don't make a liar of me," Steve said, smiling down at Riley. He skipped over the obvious vein; it was too badly infiltrated to use again. Pressing gently on her arm, he found another option, and smoothly slid the needle in, threading in the IV line, and expertly taping it down. He hung the IV bag on the pole, checked the order, and drew up the prescribed amount of Demerol. Flicking the syringe to remove any bubbles, he added it to the IV.

Riley raised her eyebrows at him.

"Wow," she said. "Now I feel cheated. Joe didn't teach me any of that."

He smiled, the lopsided grin that mirrored her own. "Well, I guess there's a few things that I can teach you, then, when you're feeling better."

She nodded sleepily. Exhaustion had set in, and the Demerol was already taking the edge off the pain.

Steve adjusted her injured hand again, then covered her with another blanket and lowered the head of her bed just a bit. He turned off the overhead light in the room, leaving just the dim light in the corner. Moving the reclining chair next to the bed, he took her good hand in his and settled in, pulling a blanket over himself.

"Steve," she mumbled drowsily, "what happens next?"

"Next, we find a way to stop WoFat once and for all, and keep our ohana safe," he said. "But first, Riley, you rest."

His mind was racing, flooded with information and ideas and trying to process everything that had been thrown at him. Ideas for tracking WoFat were flicking through his mind like files racing across the plasma screen. Finally he gave up, and watched Riley's breathing even and slow, and allowed his own breathing to match hers, until he was able to close his eyes and drift into a relatively peaceful sleep. He gave in to the fatigue and was thankful for the sleep . . . he would need it. He had an international arms dealer to track down. And kill. Preferably with his bare hands.


	9. Chapter 9

"She's young, she was in peak physical condition, and she's exceptionally resilient," Malia said, shaking her head at Riley's chart. "And apparently as stubborn as her big brother," she added.

Riley had been moved to a regular room, and was already badgering Malia to discharge her. They were waiting for her heart activity to return to normal, and for her electrolytes to balance out.

"Can't you just give me some Gatorade or something?" Riley asked hopefully.

"It's not quite that simple, Riley, but we can do wonders with IV fluids," Malia answered. "Speaking of which, Steven McGarrett, that poor intern was terrified that he was going to get fired. Please don't take over intravenous drug administration without permission."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said politely, but he rolled his eyes and winked at Riley.

"I saw that," Malia said mildly, and Danny laughed at the guilty look on Steve's face.

After Malia left, Steve turned to Danny. "Anything, Danny? Any leads on WoFat?"

"Not yet, Steve, but Agent Fielding is requesting a meeting - no, wait, hear me out. Apparently Fielding is in deep shit with his superiors for losing control of both Joe White and WoFat. He may have realized that cooperation with you will yield better results," Danny said.

"I'm not interested in cooperating with the Special Activities Division," Steve gritted out.

"Babe, I know. But . . . well, technically you're Navy . . . and technically they're Navy . . . technically, you're on the same team," Danny said, apologetically.

Steve sighed. "You're right. I hate it, but you're right. Okay, we'll meet, but in my office, on my terms. He doesn't come anywhere near Riley. He's searched for wires when he comes in. And I reserve the right to throw him physically out of the building."

"That makes perfect sense," Danny agreed. "Now, why don't you go get some much needed rest, because after Fielding, you have to deal with Joe White . . . just promise you won't break anything without me. And I," Danny said, holding out a bag with a flourish, "will entertain young Riley here. I have books, snacks, music . . ."

Steve hesitated. He wasn't inclined to let Riley out of his sight any time soon.

"Steve," Danny said. "You're dead on your feet. Go, partner. Go get some rest. Go get a shower."

Steve glanced at Riley; she still looked exhausted, but her smile was genuine. It was enough to ease the tension Steve felt in leaving her. Really, who else would he trust with family more than Danny?

"Okay," he said, nodding at Danny. "I'm keeping a full security detail posted. And if anything doesn't feel right . . ."

"I know, Steve, I'll shoot first and ask questions later," Danny said, only half joking.

Steve crossed the room and bent to kiss Riley on the top of the head, tousling her hair. "I'll see you soon, kiddo; and maybe even have some answers for you."

When the door closed behind Steve, Danny turned to Riley, his eyes crinkled in a warm smile.

"Okay, sweetheart, first of all, tell me honestly, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do we need to call the nurse? I know you try to be all brave for your big brother there, but you know you don't need to do that, right?"

"I'm okay, Danny, they gave me some pretty good stuff. My hand hurts more than anything right now," she answered honestly.

Danny fussed over her hand a bit, propping it on a pillow. "Whose head did you break this on?"

"One of WoFat's lackeys," she said.

"Good girl," Danny said approvingly. "Okay, let me know if you need me to bully the nurses into more pain meds. What else is on the agenda? It's too early for lunch, how about some reading? Or TV? No -" he said, breaking off and holding up his hand to silence her protest. "No shop talk. No questions about WoFat, or Joe White . . . there will be time for that. You need to give your mind a rest, along with your body."

Riley narrowed her eyes in disappointment but then perked up. "Tell me stuff about Steve and the team," she said, settling into the pillows and blankets expectantly.

"Ah, story time," Danny said, smiling and pulling up a chair. "Well, let me tell you about the time that Steve used a grenade to blow open a door . . . although this may backfire on me, because come to think of it, Kono thought it was . . . what was the phrase, "wicked awesome", I believe . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was trained in plenty of intimidation techniques. The Navy had taught him well - years as a SEAL and in Naval Intelligence equipped him the with the knowledge and ability to use every available advantage. He knew the science behind proximity, personal space, vocabulary, the whole nine yards.

Kono was really looking forward to watching and learning some of these techniques when Agent Fielding was ushered into Five-O headquarters. Earlier that morning, she had moved her desk so that she could sit, pretending to do paperwork, and have a front row view into Steve's office. She may have, possibly, sort of hit the button on his phone that intercommed into her office when she took him a cup of coffee.

"Nice try, Kono," Steve said, waving at her as he pushed the button and walked out of his office to stand by the console table.

She saluted him with her coffee cup and shrugged. She was getting almost as good as Steve at reading lips, anyway.

The elevator ding announced the arrival of Fielding, and Steve stood impassively, watching him exit the elevator.

"McGarrett," he said, pausing at the table.

"My office," Steve said, pointing.

They entered the office and Agent Fielding started to speak. "Comman-"

"Shut up. Sit." Steve pointed at a chair, then leaned against his desk with his arms folded across his chest. Kono grinned.

Fielding puffed up, started to protest, and Steve simply stood to his full height and took one step closer to him. Fielding sat.

"Joe White is in the hospital. Under arrest for kidnapping, for starters, more charges to be filed as I see fit. Riley McGarrett is in the hospital, due to be released tomorrow, and under the protection of Five-O. Doris McGarrett and WoFat are in the wind. I want every file, every piece of information, on every single one of them, and I want it now," Steve said, his voice low and even.

"Impossible," Fielding said, his tone smug. "It's all extremely classified."

"Unclassify it," Steve said. "Read me in."

"You don't get to make that call, McGarrett."

"Commander McGarrett. And Five-O operates with full immunity and means," Steve said.

Fielding waved his hand dismissively. "On this island, and under the authority of the governor. You're a big fish in a very small pond."

"I intend to get answers, and I'll do it with or without the cooperation of you and the SAD," Steve said.

"I'll shut you down," Fielding sneered.

"No, you won't," Steve replied, his mild tone belying his deadly serious intent. "I'll make sure my people are safely employed at HPD or the agency of their choice, then I'll shut down Five-O, go underground, go rogue, and take everyone down with me - Joe White, WoFat, you . . . you'll never see me coming and you won't be able to stop me."

Steve glanced at Kono's office as she dropped the stapler she'd been pretending to use and was staring at him, her eyes wide. He smothered a grin as he questioned the wisdom of encouraging her to learn to read lips.

"You'll never get to the SAD," Fielding said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Who said anything about the SAD? I'll come after you, Fielding. Just you," Steve said.

"You're threatening me," Fielding said. It almost came out as a whine.

"I'm explaining one option. The other option is that I get the SAD's cooperation in taking down WoFat," Steve said.

"That will never happen. He is of vital concern to the SAD and the CIA," Fielding replied smoothly. "But, we'll give you Joe White to do with what you please," he added.

Steve stared at him. "Typical. You'll protect the international criminal, but you'll throw one of your own under the bus."

"The interests of one individual never outweigh the cause of the greater good," Fielding said.

Steve grit his teeth. He'd heard Riley say the same thing, as she dismissed her own pain and mistreatment as if it were nothing. He needed to wrap this meeting up before he lost his temper completely and Fielding left his office in a body bag.

"What if I want to prosecute Joe White to the full extent of the law? Let him rot in a Navy brig?" Steve ground out.

Fielding shrugged. "Makes no difference to us. You think the SAD and CIA doesn't have the resources to carry out our initiative if one of our agents turns against us? Joe White could, and probably will, tell you every single thing he knows. It will barely slow us down."

"Joe is mine, then," Steve said. "And make no mistake, I will take down WoFat. If you and your agency come down in the process, that will be icing on the cake."

Fielding stood to leave, and hesitated in the door to Steve's office. "Commander McGarrett," he said, in the first reasonably human tone of voice Steve had ever heard him use. "I know this is impossible for you to believe right now, but at the heart - the Special Activities Division really does exist to protect the American people. There is a greater good, a bigger picture here than you can ever imagine. I know that on some level, you have to understand that. After all, you were willing to enlist our cooperation to rescue your sister, even though it meant letting WoFat get away."

Steve sighed. His days in Naval Intelligence had put him in some gray areas. And Fielding had a point; when push came to shove, he had gladly let WoFat walk in exchange for his sister.

"My sympathy for the cause of the greater good has worn thin, Fielding," Steve said, but his tone had softened. "The greater good has cost me too much."

"So this is about vengeance, then," Fielding stated.

"Justice," Steve corrected. Then he thought of hearing the gunshot that ended his father's life, thought of watching Jenna shot in cold blood right in front of him, thought of Riley . . .

"Yeah, okay, vengeance," Steve amended.

"I have a job to do," Fielding warned.

"I understand," Steve said, "but you're not going to stop me."

Fielding looked at him for a moment, and a faint smile crossed his face. "You may be right."


	10. Chapter 10

It was late evening before Steve made it back to the hospital. He smiled at the scene in front of him. Danny had drifted off to sleep in the recliner next to Riley's bed, and she had somehow managed to snag a laptop. Several components were attached to the laptop, some of which he recognized from her stash of equipment she'd collected at Jerry's.

She peered up at him guiltily through the mass of cords and cables, half of which were tangled up with her IV lines.

"What, exactly, are you doing?" Steve asked, trying for a stern glare but failing miserably. He was just so relieved to see her looking so remarkably healthy, she could have hacked Sec-Nav's personal PC for all he cared.

"Would you believe me if I said I was playing League of Legends?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

"Could you pretend you believed me?"

Steve grinned. "Possibly. What, did you drug Danny and call Jerry?" He poked at Danny's foot with his.

"Gerrofff . . ." Danny mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, blinked his eyes open, and looked up at Steve. "What?" he asked, grumpily, and then his eyes widened. "How did . . . " he looked at Riley, confused.

"Oh my God, please tell me that you _did not actually_ drug Danny and call Jerry," Steve said in disbelief.

"I did not drug Danny," Riley said solemnly.

"Then why don't I remember Jerry being here?" Danny protested loudly. "And how did you get that laptop? And why don't I remember falling asleep?

"You seemed really tired and stressed out, Danny," Riley said, shrugging. "So I suggested accupressure to help you relax."

Steve groaned. "Let me guess, something the monks showed you?"

"Ummhmm," Riley said absently, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard. "It worked," she said, glancing at Danny. "See? He looks so much better."

Steve rubbed his eyes. "Yes, he looks very well-rested, Riley. Honey, please don't render people unconscious without their permission and knowledge, okay? It's for your safety as much as theirs."

There was a knock on the door, followed by Malia poking her head inside. "Riley McGarrett," she said, exasperated.

"Oh, hi, Malia," Riley said, looking sheepishly at her over the laptop. "I thought you weren't on duty tonight."

"I'm not. Chin and I were going out to dinner, and I wanted to stop by and check on you. Imagine my surprise when I was told that your discharge order had been placed about ten minutes ago," Malia said, hands on her hips.

"Great, let's go," Riley said, holding out the arm with the IV to Steve. "Unhook me." She swatted ineffectively at the sundry cables tangled along with the IV line.

"Stand down, Commander," Malia ordered, and Steve practically snapped to attention before he remembered she was a civilian. A tiny little civilian, at that. "Riley, you know I love you dearly and you are ohana to me. But you may not hack into the hospital records and file a discharge order for yourself. That is a violation of hospital security and medically unwise."

"Yes, Malia," Riley said, looking downcast. "I'm sorry. And I only went into my own records, I promise."

"Apology accepted," Malia said. "Now, since you are obviously feeling well enough to get into mischief, I am going to sign off on this order, and as soon as this IV is finished, you will be free to go. Please. Before you get into any more trouble."

Riley beamed at her and started folding up the computer equipment.

"Steve, could I speak with you a moment?" Malia asked, tilting her head toward the door. As Steve followed her out into the hall, he heard Riley growling in frustration, and Danny's soothing voice as he helped her get untangled.

"Sorry, Malia," Steve said, as the door closed behind them. "I had no idea she was feeling well enough to do . . . well, whatever it is she's done. I think she actually knocked Danny out."

Malia waved him off. "It's fine, Steve, she obviously shares your penchant for leaving the hospital well before it's really advisable to do so. That said . . . I've consulted with the neurologist because this isn't my field, and, well . . . " she hesitated.

"What is it, Malia?" Steve asked, alarmed.

"No, no," Malia rushed to assure him, "nothing to be concerned about. It's just - Steve, we really don't understand how she recovered so quickly. We're thankful, of course, but given the severity of her injuries, the results of the tox screen - well, it's remarkable."

"How remarkable?" Steve asked. "I mean, you said it yourself, Malia; she's young, and resilient."

"She is, true," Malia said, "but she was also very recently dehydrated and injured, and then this following so closely on the heels . . . it's just . . . medically improbable."

Steve stared at her. "What are you saying, Malia?"

"I have no idea, Steve," Malia said, shaking her head. "But I feel like you've had quite enough lies and misdirection where Riley is concerned, so there was no way I was keeping this from you. It could mean absolutely nothing - she could just be remarkably healthy with an unusually fast metabolism. You heal much faster than the average person, due to your conditioning and metabolism."

"But you're saying she's . . . "

"She's healed much faster than even you would have," Malia finished.

"She's younger," Steve said again. "And she's had exposure to all sorts of Eastern medicine . . . "

Malia nodded. "Any number of factors could account for it, Steve. We're not proposing any sort of testing or concern . . . I'm just not going to keep anything to myself, you understand?"

"Absolutely," Steve said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Thank you, Malia. Really. And again, I'm sorry that my kid sister hacked into your hospital system."

Malia laughed. "Should I alert security?"

"Nah," Steve said. "Jerry said she's better and faster than he is. I don't think the hospital system is really at risk, I think she's just . . . "

"Remarkable," Malia inserted. "Good luck, Steve."

"Thanks," he replied dryly. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm really, really sorry," Riley said quietly, fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Silverado.

"Riley," Steve sighed, "it's okay. No one is angry with you."

"Not even Danny?" she asked.

"Not even Danny," he assured her. "Though I doubt that he's going to let you touch him for a while. Riley, I know you're used to having to fend for yourself. And I'm starting to realize that I have no idea what you're capable of . . . so please, just . . . keep me in the loop, okay? If you need something, let me know. If you want to know something, let me know. Okay? I promise you, I'm going to look out for you, and help you if I can. And I promise you, I'm never going to lie to you. Deal?"

Riley nodded. "Deal."

They pulled up in front of Steve's house, and Riley got out of the truck and moved slowly up the walk.

"You okay?" Steve asked, resting his hand gently between her shoulder blades as they stepped through the front door.

She flinched, her breath hitching.

"Yeah," she said, "it's good to be . . . out of the hospital."

"Hey," Steve said, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "I'm sorry I startled you. I get it, Riley, I've been there. And it's good to have you home. Out of the hospital, and _home_. Come on, you need to eat," he said, leading the way to the kitchen.

Riley slid onto the kitchen stool while Steve puttered around, efficiently cooking eggs and toast. He put a plate down in front of her, and slid onto the stool next to her.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said. He stood up and grabbed a Longboard from the fridge.

"Must be serious," Riley said, raising her eyebrows at his beer.

"Kinda, yeah," he said, taking a long gulp. "It's about Joe."

Riley nodded and waited silently, taking a bite.

"Joe is - was - with Special Activities Division. It's a joint operation between the CIA and the Navy; goes back to Vietnam. WoFat is - still is - of 'vital concern' to the CIA and the SAD. But the SAD is done with Joe. When he gets out of the hospital, he'll be released to my custody," Steve said slowly, gauging Riley's reaction.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed, taking a big gulp of water as she choked slightly.

"And Olivia?" she asked. She sounded so young, so terribly, terribly young and lost, and Steve wanted more than anything to somehow create a different universe for her. But he couldn't, and he'd already promised not to lie.

"Oliva . . . our mother . . . is definitely connected to this mess, to WoFat. She was involved with Joe. She was sent to take out WoFat's father; and when she did, his mother got caught up in it somehow," Steve explained.

Riley looked at him, horrified. "She orphaned him," she whispered.

"And then she raised him for a while . . . until the CIA made her give him up," Steve said, stroking the back of Riley's hand. Her knuckles were still bruised, but surprisingly not as swollen, and he could see where the split skin was already healing under the stitches. He looked up at her, waiting to see if she would connect the dots.

"No," Riley whispered. "No, please tell me it's not . . . " She stood up abruptly, the stool rasping harshly across the kitchen floor, and bolted for the back door.

"Damn it," Steve muttered, clenching his fist and wishing that punching something would help. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and his nerve to go tell his youngest sister that their mother was apparently a trained CIA assassin whose actions had led to their capture and torture. He was about to step out the back door when he heard the front door open.

"Steve?" Danny called out quietly.

Steve smiled to himself and shook his head. "Kitchen, Danno," he said wearily, grabbing another Longboard from the fridge. He extended the beer to Danny as soon as he came in the kitchen.

"That good, hunh?" Danny said.

"Fielding's done with Joe. He's my problem now; I can use him as a resource or press charges, have him court-martialed, thrown in the brig. The rest you know . . . and now, so does Riley," Steve said.

"She knows your mother is Shelburne?" Danny said, wincing sympathetically.

"I'm not going to keep her in the dark, Danny," Steve said, "and she's too smart and too curious for me to try, even if I wanted to. I haven't said it out loud, but yeah, she's put it together."

"And she's taking it hard," Danny guessed.

"Well, yeah, no shit," Steve said. "Hey, the woman you thought was your foster mom, turns out she was your real mom, lied to you your whole life, disappeared without a trace, turns out she's CIA, killed people, got you captured and tortured for information you didn't have. Yeah, she's taking it kinda hard, Danny."

"Hey, hey," Danny said, reaching out and carefully taking Steve by the shoulders. "Of course she's taking it hard, Steve. _You're_ taking it hard. Because it's _hard_. It's awful. It's wrong." Danny's eyes focused on Steve's with unwavering intensity, and Steve felt himself squirming under the scrutiny.

"Danny, I'm fine," he said impatiently.

"No, Steve, you are far from fine. You can lie to yourself, try to lie to me . . . but you promised not to lie to Riley, am I right?" Danny pressed.

"Yeah," Steve admitted.

"Okay, then go out there and be honest with her, and that includes being honest about how this makes you feel. Because if you're not - she's going to see straight through it, Steve, and she's not going to trust you with her feelings," Danny said earnestly. "Now, come'ere," he added, pulling Steve down into a rough hug.

Steve resisted at first; his emotions were running too close to the surface. But as usual, Danny persisted and refused to let go until Steve relaxed and allowed himself to accept the comfort Danny was offering.

"I think I kind of hate them all," Steve said, his voice muffled as his face pressed into Danny's broad shoulders.

"Perfectly reasonable, my friend," Danny assured him, patting him on the back. "Okay, go check on that sister of yours . . . don't, under any circumstances, accept her offers to help you relax by manipulating a pressure point in your wrist, by the way . . . I'll be out in a few with another round of beers."

"I'm not sure Riley's legal," Steve said absently, looking out the window. The sun was sinking fast, but he could see Riley sitting in one of the old chairs at the edge of the water.

"Partner, I think we can overlook that tonight," Danny said.

Steve turned and looked at him. "You came. To the house, here, tonight. I didn't . . . thanks, Danny. Thank you."

"Babe, you're not going through this alone. I mean, I let you barge into my crappy apartment and shanghai me into your task force. You're stuck with me, and it's pretty much your fault," Danny said, smiling.

Steve smiled back, that bashful, self-conscious smile of someone who's been given a gift that they didn't know they needed, and couldn't believe they deserved. Then he took a deep breath and went out the back door.

He made sure to make some noise walking toward the chairs. "Riley," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"None of this is your fault," she said, looking over at him as he sat down next to her.

"And it's certainly not your fault," he replied, "but unfortunately we're the ones living with the consequences. And I'm sorry. I wish I could have known; could have found a way to protect you."

"It's true, isn't it," she said. "Oli- our mother. She was Shelburne."

Steve nodded slowly. "If Joe is telling the truth, then yes."

"He's really being kicked out of the CIA, the SAD?" Riley asked. "What about the Navy?"

"I don't know how any of this is going to work out," Steve said. "I just know that Fielding said that Joe was mine."

"Wow, that doesn't sound creepy and horrible and _familiar_ at all; just giving a human being away when you're done with them," Riley said bitterly.

"Hey," Steve said, reaching out to squeeze Riley's good hand. "From what Joe said, Doris was under serious threat; she had Joe take you to Frank to keep you safe."

Riley turned and looked at him, her hazel eyes, mirror images of his own, locking onto his and leaving him no room to hide. "And she did that for you, and for your sister . . . and for WoFat? Convenient. Tell me, Steve, tell me you believe she was looking out for the interests of her innocent children. Tell me you believe she was being noble and self-sacrificing and I'll believe you. Tell me she wasn't doing whatever the CIA or the SAD wanted her to do, consequences be damned. Tell me that's what you believe," she demanded.

Steve was silent.

"Tell me that's what you believe," Riley said again, pleading, her voice breaking. "Tell me she didn't turn me over to Joe like a science project . . . "

Steve felt anger and grief crash over him like a wave, crushing him and holding him under. He couldn't breathe with the anguish of it.

"Tell me," Riley whispered. "Tell me and I'll believe you."

"I can't," Steve said, his voice breaking. "I promised not to lie to you, Riley, and I can't tell you that."

She looked at him, long and hard, and for a minute he thought he'd made the wrong call. Maybe he should have lied to her, maybe that really was what she wanted. He could have lied, maybe put her in witness protection . . .

"Thank you, then," she said, "for being the one person who's told me the truth. At least I have that." She stood, squared her shoulders, and started to walk toward the house. "I guess I should turn in; I assume we're going to start trying to track WoFat tomorrow."

Steve caught up to her in two easy steps - she was tall, just like him, and with long strides, but he was taller and faster.

"Riley," he said quietly. "Don't do this. Don't compartmentalize this away."

"I'm fine, Steve. I've been trained for this, just like you," she said. He could see her shutting down, shutting him out, and he was tempted . . . damn it, he was so tempted, to go along with it. They could do it. They'd been trained by the best; lock it down, lock it away, get on with the mission.

"No," he blurted out. "Because I'm not fine. I'm not okay, I'm not fine, I'm not good with any of this, but especially not with what Doris and Joe and WoFat did to you, okay? I want to yell and curse and hit things, and I think maybe I want to throw up. And I'm pretty sure you do, too."

"It won't do any good," Riley argued, trying to push past him. "Come on, let's just move on. We have work to do."

"Riley," he said again, quietly, "you're more important than the mission."

"Nothing is ever more important than the mission," she replied instantly.

"And who told you that? Joe? Doris?" Steve asked, gently.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"And do they have a history of telling you the truth?" he asked. "Or do they have a history of lying to you?"

She faltered, fell silent.

"Have I lied to you, Riley?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Then when I tell you that you're more important to me than the mission; that you and Mary are more important to me than any mission, past, present, or future, I want you to believe me," he said, reaching out carefully and putting his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, just like he had in the kitchen with Danny. But just like Danny - just like he'd _learned_ from Danny, he realized - just like Danny had deliberately and purposefully _taught_ him, he also realized - he didn't give up, just gently and slowly pulled Riley to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing her head into the crook of his neck.

"I'm so angry," he whispered to her, "I'm so angry, and I feel so betrayed - by my parents, by Joe, hell, by the US Navy, a little, if I'm honest. And I don't even have a word for how I feel about what's been done to you. So, you might be fine, Riley, but I am definitely not fine."

He felt her fighting to maintain control, and thought of that first night, when they'd come back from North Korea. She'd tried so hard to stay in control that she'd barely breathed, and then hyperventilated. Danny had practically ordered her to breathe, and it had worked.

"Oh, Riley, honey, just give it up," he muttered. "Breathe, Riley, just like Danny made you. It's okay, I've got you."

"You first," she gritted out, and he realized that he was holding onto control with every fiber of his being, feeling lightheaded with the strain of it. He gasped out a half-laugh, half-sob at the thought, and tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"We suck at this," he said.

She nodded in agreement, and he heard her chuckle, but then he felt the hot tears hit on his collarbone, and her shoulders were shaking in silent sobs.

"It's okay, Riley, I've got you," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles over her shoulders. He held her, muttering soft phrases of comfort in Japanese and pidgin, for a few minutes, until she pulled herself together. "It's okay," he repeated.

"You said it wasn't okay, you dick, make up your mind," she groused.

"Language," Steve chided. "And did you just wipe your face on my shirt? That's disgusting."

"Oh, great, you've just given him an excuse to whip his shirt off, Riley," Danny grumbled, walking toward them, his Longboard in hand, and two in the other hand, which he held out to Riley and Steve.

Riley grabbed one and downed half of it in several long swallows.

"What?" she said, at Steve and Danny's raised eyebrows. "Please. I spent my formative teenage years with Frank. I could drink the both of you under the table. Okay, boys, enough of this touchy-feely shit. We have work to do. Get me to a decent computer and a secure connection."

"Yeah, that is going to wait until tomorrow," Steve said firmly. "You just forged your discharge papers a few hours ago; you're going to get some decent rest."

"Malia signed the papers," she started to protest, but Steve stopped her with a raised hand. "Fine," she sighed.

"Come on," Danny said, "maybe we can find a game on, relax a bit."

"Soccer?" Riley asked, as they walked toward the house.

Danny slung an arm around her shoulders. "No, not soccer," he said, shuddering dramatically. "Football, my dear; I see I have much to teach you . . . "


	11. Mother's Day

"I don't need a babysitter," Riley said pointedly, looking over the top of her coffee cup at Steve and Danny. The impromptu football lesson - "It's important that Riley start integrating into American culture, really," Danny had said - led to a couple more beers, and Danny had crashed on the sofa. Despite Steve's insistence that she take the heavy-duty painkillers sent home from the hospital, when Danny shuffled to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning, he'd heard muffled cries coming from Riley's room. His parenting instincts had kicked into overdrive and he went, naturally, to try to wake and comfort her . . . and was now sporting a black eye, and various other bruises which he'd carefully hidden under his work clothes.

"Riley, Danny is just going to give you a ride to Five-O," Steve explained. "I'm going to the hospital to talk to Joe. I don't think it's a great idea for you to be in on that yet - but I promise I'll include you in the briefing when I get back. You're not being babysat." Steve was looking a little the worse for wear, and poured a second cup of coffee, dropping in a plop of butter, to Danny's dismay. By the time he'd rushed down the stairs at the sound of scuffling and shouting coming from the guest room last night, Riley had pinned Danny against the wall, shouting at him in Korean. It had taken their combined efforts to re-orient her to time and place, and while she and Danny had both managed to go back to sleep, the flood of adrenaline had kept Steve awake the rest of the night.

"Okay," Riley agreed somewhat reluctantly, "but then Danny has to explain what all the butt-patting is about in NFL football. He dodged the question last night."

"Much like you're dodging talking about what happened after the game last night?" Danny pressed gently.

"I'm really sorry I hurt you, Danny," Riley said, looking down at her mug.

"That's not what we need to talk about, Riley," Danny said. He glanced at Steve, who looked concerned, but at a loss. _Baby steps_ , Danny thought, _he'd done a lot of talking last night._ Talking was definitely more Danny's area of expertise than Steve's.

"I'll be okay, Danny," Riley insisted. "Can we just please, not talk about it now?"

"Fine," Danny sighed. "Wouldn't have needed the DNA test to prove you and Steve are two of a kind. Well, come on then," he added kindly, tousling Riley's hair. "Let's go. We'll get you set up with a computer at the palace."

Riley's eyes lit up.

"Behave," Steve said sternly.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe White pulled the cell phone out from under the hospital bed mattress. It had been an easy thing, really, to pull it out of the phlebotomist's lab coat; and it would be an easy thing to "discover" it between the bedrail and mattress when she came looking for it. Using a civilian's phone to make the call was risky, but time was running out; he was sure of it. He'd not been contacted by the CIA or the SAD, which could only mean one thing - he had been cut loose.

A sleepy voice answered on the other end.

"Sorry to wake you," Joe said, "but I don't know how much time I have. No, still in the hospital, but I'll probably be discharged today. No, I've not heard from either agency. I imagine I've been disavowed. No, there is no reason to panic. I suspect Steve will decide to 'keep his enemies closer'; in which case, I'll have even more access. Well, it would not be in our best interest for Mary to get involved at all; a distraction may be necessary, if they start noticing that she shares none of their common physical traits. No, I won't let her get hurt if I can help it. I understand but you know that . . . yes, there are always greater interests than that of one person."

There was a longer pause.

"You haven't been compromised . . . well, they know you are Shelburne, they know about your involvement with WoFat. But they don't know if you're alive or dead. Which way do you want to play it?"

Another pause.

"Agreed. Do not try to contact me; it will be too risky. Don't tell me where you are, or even where you might be. Disappear."

Joe pressed a series of several keystrokes to eliminate the obvious signs of his phone call from the cell phone. If anyone thought to look, they could easily find a record of it. He was counting on no one having a reason and pressed the button to call the nurse.

"Yes," Joe said, when the nurse answered the call. "I just noticed . . . the young woman who was in to take my blood earlier . . . I believe her phone must have slipped out of her pocket. You will? Thank you."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve nodded at the uniformed officer standing outside Joe's door.

"Anything unusual, officer?" he asked.

"No, sir, Commander McGarrett," the officer replied. "Only the approved hospital personnel have been in and out."

Steve entered the room quietly and stood, arms folded, just inside the door.

"Good morning Steve," Joe said. "To what do I owe the honor? How's Riley?"

"You don't get to ask about Riley," Steve said. "You might want to ask about Agent Fielding, though."

Joe sighed. "Let me guess. I've been disavowed."

"Pretty much. You're a liability to them. They've already initiated all of the protocol that makes your knowledge obsolete."

"They're doing what needs to be done," Joe said mildly. "This is how it works, son. Let me guess - you've been told that you're in control of what happens to me next. You know that's an illusion, right? But for the sake of argument, what are your supposed options?"

"I can use you or send you up for court martial," Steve said impassively. "I haven't decided yet."

"Well, the information I have is already useless," Joe said. "You could get revenge; have me court martialed. I'd be stripped of rank, pension, at the very least. You could probably see to it that I spent some time in the brig, even."

Steve studied him. "Is that what you want?"

"What I want is irrelevant, son."

"Stop calling me that!" Steve exploded. "You don't get to call me that. You are not my father. I don't even know who you are, Joe. I thought I could trust you. I have trusted you, my whole life. Now, I don't know what to do."

"I taught you to trust your instincts, Steve. I suggest you do that now. What do your instincts tell you to do?"

"My instincts? Oh, that's a dangerous thing to suggest, Joe. My instincts tell me to torture you the way you tortured Riley; the way WoFat tortured us both . . . see if anything you have is still useful to me. Or, you know, do it just for the hell of it, for information you don't even have," Steve growled.

"Nothing's stopping you," Joe said, looking steadily at Steve.

"Yeah, actually, Joe, a sense of honor, of humanity, of basic decency is stopping me," Steve said. "But don't think I'm not tempted."

"The choice is yours, Steve," Joe said. "You're in control here."

"Really?" Steve said, "Because it damn sure feels like Riley, Mary, and I have never had any choice, or any control. We seem to be the only people in this situation who haven't had any say whatsoever in the matter."

Steve turned to leave.

"So what are you going to do?" Joe asked.

"Hell if I know, Joe," Steve said. "But I'm not going to do anything without letting Riley have some say in it. No one else ever has."

Steve refrained from slamming the door, in deference to the other patients, and headed for the elevators. He took a few minutes in the ride down to calm himself, and stepped out on the floor of the emergency department. He knew the hospital like the back of his hand; which Danny would be quick to point out was usually a result of his - or Kono's - propensity for leaping into danger headfirst.

He spotted Malia at the charting station.

"Steve," she said warmly. "What brings you here? No new injuries, I hope."

"No, I wanted to see if you could tell me when Joe was going to be discharged," he said. "Oh," he added, "and could I get some more of that cream for the electrical burns?" He'd almost forgotten while he was distracted in talking with Joe, but the injuries were still painful, and he was running low.

Malia entered a few keystrokes into the computer. "Joe's doctor is suggesting discharge this afternoon," she said.

Steve sighed. Not much time to make a decision.

"Is that a problem?" Malia asked.

"No, no problem . . . leave it to the alphabet agencies to conveniently dispose of a problem and make you think they're doing you a favor . . . I'll just have a lot to figure out between now and then," he said.

"If you need us to delay it, Steve, I'm sure that can be arranged," Malia said. "Now, if you'll come with me, I'll get you some of that cream."

Before Steve realized what had happened, he'd followed Malia into a treatment room, and she was gently lifting up his shirt.

"Malia, did you just trick me into a follow-up visit?" Steve asked, pretending to be exasperated.

"It's the only way to get you to comply," Malia said. "These are healing as expected, but I'm sure they still hurt. Be sure to keep the cream applied; it's going to help prevent infection. How are the ribs?" she added, pressing gently.

Steve winced a bit. "Just a twinge, nothing to worry about," he assured her.

Malia patted his shoulder as she finished, and turned to a cabinet. "I'll send you with two tubes; if you're running low, then I'm sure Riley is as well. Speaking of which, how is she doing? She will need a follow-up visit too, and I'd be happy to see her."

Steve hesitated, and rubbed his hand over his face.

"What's wrong?" Malia asked.

"She had a rough night last night," Steve admitted. "Danny tried to wake her up from a nightmare . . . actually, we might need to get Danny checked out."

Malia winced. "That bad?"

"I'll be honest, Malia, I was afraid I was going to end up hurting her, trying to pull her off Danny," Steve sighed. "Danny . . . really goes above and beyond, dealing with the McGarrett night terrors."

Malia smiled and patted Steve's arm in sympathy. "I'm sure he doesn't mind, Steve. Do you think you could bring Riley over today, let me follow up on her injuries?"

"Yeah, I'll do that," Steve said. "I think . . . I might need to give Riley the opportunity to confront Joe before he leaves the hospital; before I decide what to do."

"With Joe?" Malia asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Steve sighed, rubbing his face again. He was exhausted and the day had just started. "Once he's released from the hospital, he's my problem to solve. Thanks, Malia - we'll be by later."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve took a deep breath before he stepped off the elevator onto the Five-O floor. On the drive over from the hospital, he'd turned over a dozen scenarios that would allow him to safely remove Riley from this mess . . . it could be done, but even utilizing all of his resources, he'd worry about her safety. There was nothing for it; she would have to know exactly what was happening with Joe. He'd promised not to lie to her, and he had to keep that promise.

Chin glanced up from his desk as Steve came off the elevator. His smooth brow furrowed in concern; Steve looked exhausted. When Kono and Riley were distracted with something on the computer, Danny had filled Chin in on the rough night they'd had.

"Steve, you look axed, brah. What do you need?" Chin asked, gripping him by the shoulders. Steve was his boss, sure, but he looked so lost that for a moment, all Chin could see was the young sophomore quarterback intent on beating all his records.

Steve shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Honestly? I really, really wish my dad was here, Chin. I have no idea what to do."

"Go sit down," Chin commanded kindly. "My office. I'm getting you some coffee, and you're going to catch me up on what's happening. I'm not your dad, but I'm your friend. Go - I'll be right back. Danny and Kono took Riley to tour the armory . . . I wasn't trusting the way she was eyeing up the computer."

Steve collapsed in a chair in Chin's office, staring pensively toward the center of the room. He was perfectly at ease making split second life-and-death decisions; calm under fire; had absolutely no problem leading a team of lethal SEALs. But this . . . unraveling these family secrets, getting tangled up with the CIA and the SAD . . .

"Okay, Steve," Chin said, handing him a fresh cup of coffee, "tell me what's happening. Danny said you were talking to Joe this morning."

"I'm so out of my element," Steve said, taking a sip of the coffee, and nodding his thanks at Chin. "The CIA and SAD have cut Joe loose. He's been . . . well, disavowed sounds very dramatic, but that's the sense of it."

"Wow," Chin said. "So what's next?"

"Well," Steve answered uncomfortably, "that seems to be up to me. I can utilize Joe as an 'asset', or I could have him brought up on charges. Court martialed."

Chin's eyes widened. "That's horrifically unfair."

"Well, he did kidnap Riley . . . not to mention his 'training' methods with her a few years back," Steve said, a bit confused as to Chin's defense of Joe.

"Oh, Danny filled me in on Joe's training . . . no, I meant it was horribly unfair to _you_ , to dump this responsibility on you. He was your mentor, your commanding officer . . . and now you're responsible for him? Right on the heels of finding another sister. In WoFat's compound, no less." Chin shook his head sympathetically. "No wonder you look exhausted. You're losing sleep over this, aren't you?"

Steve took another sip of coffee and nodded. "None of us got much sleep last night."

"Yeah, from the looks of that shiner Danny's sporting, Riley has a mean right hook," Chin said.

"You have no idea, Chin. You saw the damage she inflicted on WoFat's men. I haven't even told you . . . when we were in Korea, tracking down Frank, we got jumped by three thugs. She took them out without even breaking a sweat - still injured from her first encounter from WoFat. Last night . . . I had a hard time pulling her off Danny," Steve said quietly. "Chin . . . I've never been able to manage Mary, that's no secret."

Chin chuckled.

"But Riley . . . Chin, I have no idea what she's even capable of, and I don't think she does either. And the nightmare she had last night . . . "

"You know a little about those, I'm guessing," Chin said sympathetically.

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Danny . . . he's had to wake me up sometimes." Steve looked at Chin over the rim of his coffee cup. "I know you all orchestrate this, by the way - you never let me go home alone from the hospital."

"Guilty as charged," Chin said mildly. "But Steve, _none_ of us go home alone from the hospital. Think about it."

Steve paused a moment.

"So, basically, we just do for you what you make sure is done for each of us," Chin pointed out. "Is it so hard to wrap your brain around that?"

From the way Steve blinked at him, Chin assumed that yes, perhaps it was. He shook his head. He loved John McGarrett, he did - the man had meant the world to him. But sending Steve away, when he did, right after his mother's death . . . it had sure done a number on him.

"I think I need to let Riley weigh in on the decision," Steve said. "What do you think?"

Chin nodded. "If she plans to stay here, close to you, then definitely."

"Oh," Steve said, looking mildly horrified. "I hadn't thought . . . I'd just assumed she'd want to stay here. But Mary didn't. Oh my God, what if she feels like I'm holding her hostage?" Steve stood up and started pacing around Chin's office.

"Steve," Chin said, standing up and placing a hand firmly on Steve's shoulder. "I am sure she doesn't think that for a minute. And I'm sure that she does want to stay here. Mary . . . Mary finished growing up in LA; she had the opportunity to make a life there, one that suits her free-spiritedness." Chin looked up at the sound of the elevator. "Look; talk to Riley. And whatever you decide, Steve, you aren't going to have to do this alone. We're here for you; for both of you."

Steve watched as Danny, Kono, and Riley exited the elevator. Danny still looked tired, and his eye was a horrible shade of purple - Riley had nailed him but good, that was certain - but he was smiling and laughing, squeezing Riley's hand affectionately. Steve stood and walked out of Chin's office.

"Hey, kid," he said, smiling at Riley. "You staying out of trouble?"

"I don't know, Steve, you may need to inventory the grenades," Danny said, pretending to be grumpy. "Kono can't hide them in her skinny jeans, but Riley's wearing cargo pants. As if we needed yet more evidence that you share DNA."

Riley shrugged. She was still wearing the clothes that Renee had picked out for her, and she thought they were perfectly fine. "I did not steal any grenades," she said solemnly. In the same tone of voice, Danny thought, in which she had said that she hadn't drugged him, which wasn't reassuring at all. Riley turned to Steve. "You met with Joe. Tell me," she said.

"Did you, um, want to go in my office and talk?" Steve said. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do that or not; honestly wasn't sure how to go about this without Danny and Chin, but it felt like he should at least offer her some privacy.

"I'm new around here," Riley said, "but I've already figured out that you guys pretty much live in each other's pockets. Everyone is going to end up knowing; besides, this affects everyone here. So, no, I don't want to go in your office, just tell me what you're going to do about Joe."

"I was going to ask you how you felt about it," Steve said, leaning against the computer table and rubbing the back of his neck.

Riley looked surprised. "Why should that matter?"

"Riley . . . Joe - what he did to you, the lies he told . . . he took you at gunpoint from our home, for crying out loud. It matters how you feel. It matters to me," Steve said.

Chin put an arm around Riley's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. Danny had spent more time with her, but he was the one who had literally carried her out of WoFat's clutches, and he felt just as protective of her as Steve and Danny. "Riley," he said, "how you feel matters to all of us. We're going to back you and Steve up one hundred percent - you're right, this affects all of us - and we all want to know that you're okay with whatever is decided."

"The only thing that matters is what is most strategically advantageous," Riley insisted. "My personal feelings should have no bearing on the decision."

Danny started to open his mouth to protest, but Steve caught his eye and he stopped.

"Okay," Steve said easily. "What do you think is most strategically advantageous?"

"Well, what do you want: retribution or information?" Riley asked. As if it was that easy. As if they weren't discussing someone who had betrayed them - betrayed her - in the worst possible way.

"What do you want?" Steve retorted back to her.

Danny, Chin, and Kono watched expectantly as Riley and Steve stared at each other. Finally Riley took a deep breath.

"I want answers," she said quietly. "And for all that Joe's done . . . he's still Joe."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Yeah," he sighed. "Me too."

"Okay, then, it's settled," Danny said. "Joe is our responsibility."

"No, Danny, just mine," Steve started, but Danny held up his hand.

"Chin said it, Steve. We're all in this with you. Whatever you guys decide, it affects us - because you're not doing this alone. You might be a SuperSEAL and a . . . a . . . honey badger, or whatever, but you're not alone."

"Honey badger? Really, Danny?" Riley huffed.

Danny pointed to his black eye. "Honey badger. Look it up on Discovery Channel."

"Okay," Chin said, breaking in before Danny could cause any more trouble with his animal analogies. "So it's decided. Steve, didn't you say Joe was getting discharged from the hospital today?"

"Yeah, this afternoon, Malia thought. Oh, and speaking of Malia, she wants to see you, Riley, for a follow-up visit," Steve added. "I was thinking I could take you over, you see Malia, and then we talk to Joe. Together. Before we make a final decision."

Riley nodded. "Sounds like a plan. But really, I'm fine, I don't need to see Malia."

"Humor me," Steve said, looking at her skeptically.

"Do you need back-up, boss?" Kono asked.

"For Joe, or to convince Riley to see Malia?" Steve asked, smiling.

"Either or both," Kono said, smiling at Riley. "Because either sounds better than the mountain of paperwork I have waiting for me."

"No, I think Riley and I can handle this," said Steve. He felt lighter, now that a decision had been made. "Thanks, guys; I mean it. This is a lot of crazy to add to Five-O. I really appreciate your support." He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Hey, Danny, don't you have Gracie this weekend?"

"Yeah, just for this evening . . . I have to take her back first thing in the morning," Danny said.

"But, it's your weekend," Steve said, confused. He knew Danny's schedule with Grace almost as well as Danny himself.

"It's . . . " Danny hesitated, and Steve noticed that Kono was biting her lip.

"What?" Steve asked.

"It's Mother's Day weekend, Steve," Danny said gently.

"Oh. Okay, yeah. All of you, finish up what you have to and then get out of here; it's Friday, start your weekend. Maybe we'll get lucky, and all the criminals will take a break, and give us one, too. I'll see you guys on Monday," Steve said, waving them off.

As Danny, Chin, and Kono drifted into their offices to wrap up, Riley leaned against the computer table next to Steve. He put his arm around her and kissed her temple.

"You sure about this, Riley?" he said. "I can pull any number of strings, make any kind of arrangements for you. I don't want to assume that you want to stay here. I could try to get you away from all of this."

"Would it be better for you if I went back to Korea, and stayed with Frank?" she asked, but her eyes were downcast.

"Riley, no . . . God, no that's not what I would want, and no it wouldn't make things easier for me. I'd be worried sick about you. But, if it's what you want, I could arrange it. Even arrange some security measures," he said.

"It's not what I want," she said, leaning into him. "I'm being selfish, I know - but I just found you. I like it here. I like your team. I'd like to stay here, with you, if I can."

"Then it's settled. I won't even bring it up again, but look - if you change your mind, you let me know, okay? I mean it. I have connections, Riley, all over the world," Steve assured her.

"So does WoFat, apparently," Riley replied, seriously. "I'll take my chances here, thanks."

"Okay, then let's go get you checked out and have a little chat with Joe," Steve said, pushing himself off the table and heading for the elevator, with Riley effortlessly falling in step beside him.

#*#*#*#*#

Malia stepped into the hallway, where Steve was waiting anxiously.

"How is she, really?" he asked Malia. "She just keeps insisting she's fine."

"Physically, she is . . . well, I keep using the word, but - remarkable. She's healing very quickly. Her stitches, the burns, the cracked ribs - everything healing well ahead of schedule," Malia said, still making notes in the chart. "She's young, in great shape, and my guess is she's had very little sun exposure, living in Tokyo, so her collagen is flawless, which would explain the quick wound healing."

"Advantages of the young," Steve said.

"Indeed," Malia said, nodding. "So she's saying she's fine, because between her high tolerance for pain - which, I'm sorry, if I understand correctly, was partly a learned behavior - and her fast healing, she is managing the pain. I couldn't really get her to talk about the nightmares, though, other than for her to worry about Danny and how badly she might have hurt him. I'm afraid that's going to take some time and patience."

Steve nodded.

"Catherine suggested that it might be good for both of you to see someone," Malia suggested gently. Catherine and Danny had both confided in her that Steve's sleep was often disrupted by violent nightmares, usually involving classified missions. Perhaps Steve's reluctance to seek help would be overcome if he was willing to do it on Riley's behalf.

"We'll think about it, Malia," Steve promised, as Riley came out of the room.

"Thanks, Malia," Riley said. "And sorry again, you know, about the computer thing."

"It's okay, Riley," Malia assured her. "I know who to call if I'm trying to work remotely and can't log in."

Riley smiled and nodded. "Okay, let's go talk to Joe," she said to Steve. "I want to get this over with."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was glad that Joe was still in his hospital gown, awaiting discharge, when they got to his room. As petty as it sounded, he was thankful for the psychological edge it gave them: nothing like having your ass hanging out the back of a flimsy hospital gown to put you at a disadvantage.

"Riley," Joe said, as they came through the door. "It's good to see you're okay."

She nodded and eyed him warily. "I'm surprised WoFat's men left you in one piece," she said.

"It took the only two left standing to drag you out the door," Joe replied. Steve couldn't miss the pride and fondness in Joe's voice. "You were the objective; I was just collateral damage."

"How badly were you hurt?" Riley asked. Steve sighed. He was afraid of this, to a point - for all Joe had lied to and misused Riley, there was still obviously a bond between them. Not that Steve could claim any different.

"I'm fine, Riley," Joe said. "Steve, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from you and Riley? I do appreciate you letting me see her. I hadn't expected it." Steve listened carefully, but there was no discernable trace of sarcasm in Joe's voice.

"I wanted to talk about what happens when you're discharged today, Joe," Steve said, "and I felt like it was only fair to Riley to be included in that conversation."

"Sounds reasonable," Joe said.

"Neither of us want to see you sent up on charges," Steve began. "But we do want some straight answers, and some cooperation. I'm willing to suggest an honorable discharge, retirement, pension; if you're willing to cooperate with Five-O in the investigation and search for WoFat."

Joe pondered the idea. Doris couldn't resurface until WoFat was found. Feigning cooperation with Five-O was the best way to maintain control of that situation; control that he had lost.

"I assume that's the best offer I'm going to get, under the circumstances," Joe said.

"Circumstances that include assaulting two HPD officers, kidnapping Riley at gunpoint - and that's just the recent history," Steve said, "yeah, I'd say it's a safe assumption I'm the best offer you'll get."

Joe nodded. "I've always enjoyed working with you, Steve. It seems fitting that my career would bring me full circle to work for you; work with Riley. I'd be honored."

"Don't for one minute think that you are working for or with Five-O, Joe. You are an informant; a source. You are never to be anywhere near Riley without my permission, and only then if I'm there, or one of my team. Understood? You figure out your life based on your pension and retirement from the Navy, and I'll let you know when I want to talk to you, where and how. Are we clear?" Steve said, crossing his arms and staring hard at Joe.

"Clear, Steve," Joe said.

"And the minute - the minute we find out you've lied to us? The deal is off. I can and will bring you up on civil, criminal charges," Steve said. "And if that doesn't work, I don't think I need to remind you what I'm capable of."

"I do know. I taught you," Joe said.

"Did you know Olivia was really my mother?" Riley blurted out. She glanced at Steve apologetically, but he just nodded at her. She had a right to demand answers.

"I did," Joe answered.

"Is she alive?" Riley asked, in a quiet voice.

"Your mother was a Yakuza target. That's why she went underground, and had me take you to Frank. That was over three years ago. Has she been able to evade the Yakuza all this time? I believe it's possible that she's alive. But I have no idea where she is," Joe answered, choosing his words carefully. Too carefully, Steve thought, but he couldn't put his finger on which part didn't ring true.

"Why were you trying to make WoFat believe that my - our father was Shelburne?" Steve asked.

"I thought it was the best way to satisfy WoFat, and give your mother the opportunity to come out of hiding," Joe said. "I was trying . . . hoping to make up for some of my past actions by being able to reunite your family."

"What's left of it," Steve said bitterly. "And you almost got Riley killed. No more, Joe. No more playing God with our lives. From now on, Riley, Mary, and I make the decisions."

"I would keep Mary as far away from this as possible," Joe cautioned. "You don't want WoFat to have another target."

Steve nodded. "Mary is the one person you haven't been involved with, and I fully intend to keep it that way. If I find out that you've reached out to her, contacted her . . . "

"It won't happen, I swear it," Joe said. He had all kinds of reasons that he wanted to keep Mary on the sidelines. He wasn't about to initiate contact.

"You can stay on base at Pearl while your discharge is being processed," Steve said. "You don't set foot on my property. And there will be MPs discreetly shadowing you." His intention wasn't to humiliate Joe, but he hardly trusted him.

"Understood," Joe said.

"You'll be provided with a ride to the base when you're discharged," Steve said. "Rest up over the weekend. I'll call for you when I'm ready to start tracking down WoFat."

"I'm surprised you haven't set up a command station in my hospital room," Joe observed.

Steve put a gentle hand on Riley's shoulder. "I've learned to rethink my priorities since leaving the SEALs," he said. "But don't mistake my putting Riley first for a lack of will in finding WoFat and bringing him to justice."

"Understood," Joe said.

"You'll be provided with a phone," Steve said. "You should assume it will be monitored." He tugged gently on Riley's hand. "Let's go, okay?" he said quietly. "We'll get more answers, I promise."

She nodded and followed him out the door.

"Want to help me set up a phone for Joe; one that we can track?" Steve asked as they walked toward the elevator.

"Hell, yeah," Riley said, grinning broadly. "Also, could we have ice cream?"

#*#*#*#*#

They stopped by Jerry's and picked up some more equipment for Riley.

"I don't even want to know, man," Jerry had said, when Riley started to explain what they were doing. "Plausible deniability."

The evening passed pleasantly, all things considered. Steve was impressed with Riley's proficiency at setting up the phone, and Riley was impressed with ice cream.

"Really? Never?" Steve asked. He couldn't believe that Danny had just introduced her to the stuff.

"No, but don't look at me like a sad puppy," she laughed. "I grew up eating world class sushi. Hey - what's this Mother's Day thing Danny was talking about? He seemed sad."

"It's . . . well, it's an American holiday, a Sunday every May, where people honor their mothers. You know, flowers, that sort of thing," Steve answered awkwardly. "Danny and Rachel divorced, and Rachel remarried. He gets Gracie every other weekend; and this weekend is normally his, but because of Mother's Day . . . he wouldn't want to keep Gracie from being with her mom. He's okay, Riley. That little girl is his life, and he just wishes he could have more time with her."

"Did you and Mary . . . you know, do Mother's Day? When you were little?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, we made horrible breakfast in bed, picked flowers from the neighbor's yard," Steve said, smiling at the memory.

"Oliva never mentioned Mother's Day," Riley said. "Probably because she wasn't supposed to let on that she was my mother. I was supposed to believe that I'd been taken away . . . anyway, it never came up."

"It's like we had two different mothers," he said quietly.

Riley was silent, and Steve worried that he'd upset her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't . . . "

"No, it's okay," she assured him. "I think we did have two different mothers, in a way. I mean, Oli - Doris was probably in her early forties when I was born. She was young when she had you, and Mary. You've heard about my childhood, tell me more about yours. I bet you were a handful."

Steve laughed. "A little bit, yeah. I think I was really stubborn. Mom was a teacher - I thought - and Dad was a cop, so things were really strict around here. But we had fun. I think I thrived on the order and the discipline; I remember feeling secure . . . safe. Mary . . . oh, God, Mary must have hated it. When we got sent away . . . I was devastated. I just threw myself into the academy and then into the Navy. But Mary . . . she was only about twelve. She hadn't started high school yet. So, she landed with Aunt Deb in LA and I think she loved it. Aunt Deb was a free spirit, and so was Mary."

"What is Mary like, now?" Riley asked, curious about this sister she'd never met. "And are you going to tell her, you know . . . about me?"

"Mary - well, I love her to pieces," Steve started. "She's still a bit of a wild child; I worry about her constantly. She's a tiny little thing, cute as a button . . . a bit of a flake, to be honest. And of course, we're going to tell her. I'm waiting for the dust to settle, so I'm not putting her in more danger by giving her information."

"Will she be angry?" Riley wondered quietly.

"With you? No. But with our parents? Furious," Steve said.

"I didn't mean to cause -" Riley started, but Steve put a finger gently across her lips.

"Don't," he said. "Don't blame yourself, Riley, not for any of this, not for a minute. You had zero control over what's happened. I'm so glad we found you; don't ever doubt that, no matter what. Got it?"

Riley nodded, and Steve wrapped her in a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Let's call it a day, okay? Tomorrow, we'll regroup, maybe start looking at a plan of action; but I also want you to get some rest. And I need to show you around a little bit, let you get oriented to the island. Sound like a plan?" Steve asked.

Riley gathered up their dishes and headed to the sink. "Sounds like a great plan," she answered, smothering a yawn.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley crept to the top of the stairs. Steve's muffled, hoarse shouts had woken her from her own fitful sleep. She was reasonably sure no one had entered the house; still, she'd grabbed a knife from the kitchen, just in case.

By the time she tentatively opened the door to his room, she could make out the name he was mumbling . . . _Jenna_.

"Steve?" she called out quietly. He twitched, but didn't respond. Checking behind the door, she assured herself that no one else was there. She put the knife on the dresser, safely out of Steve's reach.

At this point, she was at a bit of a loss. She knew that he was likely to come up swinging, just as she had. But apparently, one was supposed to do _something_ when someone was having a nightmare. Steve turned over rather violently, flinging one of his arms over the edge of the bed. Riley edged closer, and eased herself onto the floor next to him, taking his hand in hers.

"Steve," she whispered, "wake up. It's okay, you're dreaming."

Steve flinched, and when he opened his eyes, he was staring into a mirror image of his own

"Riley?" he rasped, squeezing her hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, awkwardly patting his hand. "You were having a bad dream . . . you were calling for Jenna."

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay. I wasn't sure . . . did I do the right thing?" she asked, uncertain.

"You mean, coming up? Yeah, Riley, it's just fine. Wait," Steve said, a thought occurring to him. "Why do you ask?" Steve traced his fingers over the back of Riley's hand, brushing carefully over the stitches.

"I didn't know you were supposed to wake people up when they were having a bad dream. Until you and Danny . . . I didn't know. That it was a thing to do," Riley explained.

Steve propped his head up on an elbow. Riley was still sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bed. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

"Didn't you ever have bad dreams as a kid?" he asked.

Riley nodded. "Lots of them."

"Doris didn't . . . she didn't come wake you up, check on you, anything?" Steve wondered.

"No, never." Riley was quiet a moment. "She did with you and Mary?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Riley, I'm sorry. I don't understand . . ."

"Frank did, once. Checked on me, when I was having a bad dream. Joe was mad at him. Frank told him to take his training and his methods and shove it up his ass," Riley said, smirking.

Steve chuckled. "Good for Frank."

"So," Riley persisted, "I did okay?"

Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Riley's neck and gently pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. "You did great, kid." He closed his eyes, trying to settle the flare of anger at his mother, and Joe.

"I'm really sorry about your friend Jenna," Riley whispered.

"Me, too," Steve said. "Listen, I'm okay now. I'll tell you about Jenna some other time. Why don't you try to go back to sleep? You need me to go downstairs?"

Riley looked at him incredulously. "Are you suggesting that you . . . what - tuck me in?" She laughed, and patted his hand. "You're funny." She retrieved the sizable butcher knife off his dresser, and his eyes widened.

"You're putting that back in the kitchen, right?" he said, warily.

"Ummhmm," Riley answered, yawning. "Good night, Steve."

#*#*#*#*#

The next morning, Steve's internal debate over whether or not to risk going for a swim was settled with an early morning text from Danny.

 _Gonna admit it. Can't stand this weekend alone._

 _Sorry, Danno. What can I do?_

 _Can't believe I'm suggesting - what about one of those god-awful hikes?_

 _You. Want to go hiking?_

 _Okay, yes. No TV, no social media reminding me it's Mother's Day weekend. I miss my crazy family in Jersey and I'm missing my weekend with my baby girl._

 _Okay, Danno. Sounds good. We'll pick you up._

 _Thanks, partner._

Steve showered and threw on hiking clothes, and by the time he headed down the stairs, he heard Riley puttering around in the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and she'd put on a pair of soft cargo shorts and a lightweight t-shirt. She wordlessly poured a second cup of coffee, expertly dropped a scoop of butter into it, and handed it to Steve, padding barefoot and silent across the kitchen.

He grinned at her as he accepted the coffee.

"What?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Nothing, it's just . . . uncanny," he remarked. "Hey, the boots that Renee picked out for you - they fit well? Comfortable?"

"Yeah, they're great," Riley said. "Why?"

"Danny is feeling a little at loose ends, wanted to know if we wanted to get out, go hiking or something," Steve said. "You feel up to it? I know plenty of trails that aren't difficult; besides, with Danny, we have to pick something easy or he'll bitch and moan the whole time."

"Yeah, but . . . what about getting leads on WoFat? What about Shelburne?" Riley asked.

Steve sighed. Normally, when he was tracking someone, he was single-minded and fixated to a fault.

"I have every contact in every country looking, Riley; Catherine has permission to utilize the assets of Naval Intelligence . . . so far, we don't even have a lead. Until we have something - anything - to go on, it's pointless to spin our wheels," Steve explained. His years in Naval Intelligence had taught him that patience, while not one of his personal virtues, was essential.

"What about Joe?" Riley said.

"I'm hoping that if we leave Joe to his own devices for a day or two, he'll attempt to contact someone," Steve admitted. "In addition to the obvious MPs I have watching him, I've put some other measures in place."

"You didn't tell me," Riley said, but she was amused. "What Jerry said - plausible deniability?"

"Something like that," Steve grinned at her.

Riley shrugged. "I have a keystroke echo program wedged in his most commonly used email accounts. I can just pull up the report when we get home."

"You -" Steve stared at her in disbelief. "How?"

"He wasn't at all careful when he nabbed me and drug me off to try to create the history that would implicate your father as Shelburne. I mean, he's obviously smart enough to create all new . . . well, all new everything . . . but human nature means he will be dying of curiousity; he'll check each of his old accounts at least once, I guarantee it. And if he does, I'll know." Riley shrugged again, as if this was an every day occurrence.

"Okay, but you realize that is highly illegal, right?" Steve asked.

"I thought you had immunity and means?" Riley suggested innocently.

"Five-O has . . . okay, look, it's okay. But you've got to quit exercising your powers without restraint and direction," Steve said sternly.

"You sound just like the monks," Riley muttered.

"It's settled; I'm definitely keeping you away from technology until I can . . . I'm going to have to register you, or something, the governor . . . anyway, go get your shoes, I'll gather up the rest of what we need," Steve said, shaking his head.

"Are big brothers always so bossy?" Riley asked, as she went off to her room.

"Yes, it's part of the job description," Steve called after her.

#*#*#*#*#

"It's absolutely amazing," Riley breathed, as they sat on the rocks next to the waterfall. Steve had chosen a perfect route; a gradual incline on a shady path, which led to a quiet overlook.

"That it is," Danny said, raising his water bottle in salute.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be with your little girl today, Danny," Riley said. "But thank you for suggesting this." Riley winced as she bent to retrieve a water bottle, and Steve frowned.

"Are you hurting?" Steve asked quietly, scooting over to a rock next to Riley, and placing his hand at the small of her back. She winced again.

"Riley?" Danny asked in alarm.

"I'm okay," she waved them off in dismissal. "Those stupid burns are just bothering me."

"Why didn't you say something?" Steve asked, rummaging in his pack. He retrieved the tube of cream Malia had given him, and some antiseptic wipes. He gently lifted the back of Riley's shirt; the light sheen of sweat from their hike had irritated the circular burns, and they were inflamed and red. Danny reached over to hold the edge of Riley's t-shirt, as Steve opened the package of wipes. Their eyes met as they leaned behind Riley, and Danny could see the barely suppressed rage that Steve still felt toward WoFat. But his hands were tender and soothing as he cleaned and applied the cream.

"There, is that better?" he asked, as he finished, and carefully pulled her t-shirt back into place.

Riley nodded, not trusting her voice. The unexpected and unaccustomed kindness had thrown her. Steve turned to put the supplies back in his pack, but Danny continued looking at her steadfastly.

"Don't," she whispered, and glanced at Steve.

"You're trying to protect him, still," Danny murmured. "From what?"

"I'm wrecking his life, Danny," Riley whispered. "His life would have been so much simpler if -" She broke off abruptly and stood up, walking toward the edge of the path, away from Danny and Steve. Her movement caught Steve's eye, and he glanced her way. They watched as she sank gracefully into a cross-legged seated position, her back straight, palms up on her knees.

Danny stood, as if to go to her, but Steve held up his hand and sat down quietly next to Danny instead.

"She's upset?" Steve asked Danny quietly. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, she is," Danny said. "I think she's not at all used to anyone being nice to her, Steve. She's worried about wrecking your life. What is that - yoga?"

"My guess is this is something her monks taught her," Steve said, nodding toward Riley. "Give her a few minutes."

"Monks?" Danny asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, remember I told you she took us to this little monastery, spent the night there when we went to find Frank? It was amazing, Danny. Like something from a movie. I didn't think such places really existed. She lived and trained there, for a while, when she was with Frank," Steve explained.

"Layers and layers; she's a complicated one," Danny said, shaking his head. "That's where she learned to render me unconscious," he added, absently rubbing his thumb.

"She's already bugged Joe's email accounts," Steve said. "I'm not sure what to do, here, Danny. I'm at a bit of a loss."

"Hire her," Danny joked.

Steve looked at him, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"I wasn't serious," Danny said.

"I know," Steve said, "but Danny, think about it. What else do we expect her to do? I don't think she is going to acclimate to civilian life."

"Well, she certainly can't go around knocking people out and hacking into computers. She'll get thrown in jail," Danny groused.

"Exactly. But in Five-O . . . "

"She can knock people out and hack into their computers. Immunity and means," Danny finished. "Okay, you may be onto something."

"Plus, I can't think of a better way to protect her, than to keep her at Five-O," Steve said, nodding in satisfaction.

"Whoa, whoa big guy . . . hold on," Danny said, holding a finger up. "She's going to feel smothered if you try to handcuff her to you. Plus, she's a bit of a loose cannon, Steve. I mean, look, I love her already, but there's a whole lot of stuff in her head right now. I've still got the bruises to prove it."

Steve looked at Riley for a long moment. "You're right," he said. "So, I put her in the lab. Let her work under Charlie Fong."

Danny nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. And you see to it that she finishes her degree, got it? Because some day, this whole Shelburne, WoFat fiasco is going to be behind you. And she might want to make her own way, and even though we both know she's already smarter than ten degrees, that piece of paper might be important to her."

"Wow," Steve said. "That's . . . you're right, Danny. Thanks, man."

"Hey, I think like a dad, Steve," Danny said, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulders. "And that young woman . . . has not had much of that in her life."

"No," Steve said, sighing as he looked at Riley. "She has not. And I can't stand it, I'm going to check on her."

Danny chuckled. No, patience was definitely not one of Steve's virtues. Maybe Riley could teach him that yoga looking thing.

Steve slipped quietly onto the rock next to Riley, looking out over the waterfall.

"Hey," he said quietly. A tear had escaped and was glittering in the sunlight on Riley's cheek, and he thumbed it away gently. "Is your back feeling better?" Always easier to start with the literal wounds.

"Yeah," she said, smiling at him. "Much. Thanks."

"Good." He handed her water bottle to her. "So, is this," he gestured to her crossed legs and upturned palm, "something the monks taught you?"

Riley laughed. "Frank. I was having trouble controlling my temper; I kept blowing up at Joe and pissing him off. Frank taught me this. He would sit next to me and smoke."

"Ummhmm," Steve said. "How's it work without the secondhand high?"

"Not as well," Riley admitted, laughing and pressing her hands to her eyes.

"Hey," Steve said, carefully taking her hands in his. "Talk to me."

"I've ruined the memories of your mom, Steve," Riley said brokenly. "If you'd never met me, you'd only know her as this wonderful person who was taken from you tragically; you'd never have known she was Shelburne, you'd never have asked if she'd -"

Steve nodded. "I'd have never known that she left you alone in the dark, when you were just a little kid with a bad dream. Riley, honey, you can't do this to yourself. None of this is on you, got it?"

"I miss her," Riley whispered. "She was trying so hard to make me self-reliant, I think. She was afraid something would happen to her. And it did."

"I miss her, too," Steve said. "I've missed her for longer, and I still miss her. You're not ruining my memories of her. It's . . . well, it's a lot more complicated now, but Riley, the truth always, always comes out."

"Do you think we'll find her?" Riley asked.

"I don't know," Steve answered honestly. "But we're going to look. And, Danny has an idea about that."

"Yeah?" Riley said, looking up at him, curious.

"Yeah. Danny has suggested that you officially work with us. Five-O and HPD have a top-notch computer forensics lab. Charlie Fong - well, actually, he's Dr. Charles Fong - heads the department. He's excellent. How would you feel about working for him? So, you'd be working with us, at Five-O, and with HPD, on all of the cases, and of course helping me follow leads on WoFat," Steve explained, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. _The stitches need to come out_ , he thought absently. _That was quick._

"Really?" Riley breathed. "Seriously?"

"Really, seriously," Steve chuckled, and then the breath was practically knocked out of him as Riley launched herself at him - and how did she do that, really, from her lotus position, he wondered briefly - and wrapped her arms around him. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, and cradled her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, over and over again.

When she finally let go of him, Steve held her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Danny suggested that you work on finishing your degree, too. So that one day you can . . . " and Steve laughed at himself for already getting choked up at the idea, ". . . you can, you know, go on to do something different. Once we eliminate the threat of WoFat."

Riley nodded. "Okay," she agreed readily. Danny had stepped over to sit next to them, and he found himself wrapped in a hug from Riley as well. "Thank you, Danny," she said. "For everything."

"Hey, babe, I gotta have reinforcements keeping this neanderthal in line, are you kidding?" Danny joked.

Riley reached out a tentative finger to the bruise, still dark, on his cheekbone. "You've gone above and beyond, Danny."

"Yes, you have," Steve agreed. "Come on, let's head back. I'll throw something on the grill."

"Now you're talking," Danny said, clapping his hands together.

#*#*#*#*#

It didn't take much to convince Danny to crash at Steve's again. Honestly, he hated his empty apartment, and he'd rather take his chances with the assorted McGarretts and their nightmares. But it was a peaceful night, and Sunday found them all sleeping soundly, until Steve and Danny's phones started going off at the ungodly hour of five am.

Riley heard their phones and tumbled out of bed and into her clothes. She was pouring coffee by the time Steve and Danny sorted themselves and came into the kitchen.

"Do we have a case?" Riley asked, as Danny grabbed his coffee before she could put butter in it.

"We have a bomb threat," Steve said, grabbing the coffee thermos.

"Oh my God," Danny groused, "you're smiling. You're both smiling. This does not bode well for me, not one bit."

"Do I need to sign a paper or something, before I go to work?" Riley asked, hopping on one foot as she shoved her other foot into a boot.

"I'll call the governor on the way to the office," Steve said casually.

"Sure, on the way to the office, standing in the middle of the garage, wherever it's convenient," Danny grumbled. "Then you shove into people's apartments and bulldoze them into joining your taskforce."

"Into being my partner," Steve reminded him, as they climbed into the Silverado. "And he loves it, don't let him fool you, Riley."

"I do," Danny sighed. "So help me, I do."

Steve shot him a shit-eating grin and turned on the lights.


	12. Field Test 1

It didn't take much to convince Danny to crash at Steve's again. Honestly, he hated his empty apartment, and he'd rather take his chances with the assorted McGarretts and their nightmares. But it was a peaceful night, and Sunday found them all sleeping soundly, until Steve and Danny's phones started going off at the ungodly hour of five am.

Riley heard their phones and tumbled out of bed and into her clothes. She was pouring coffee by the time Steve and Danny sorted themselves and came into the kitchen.

"Do we have a case?" Riley asked, as Danny grabbed his coffee before she could put butter in it.

"We have a bomb threat," Steve said, grabbing the coffee thermos.

"Oh my God," Danny groused, "you're smiling. You're both smiling. This does not bode well for me, not one bit."

"Do I need to sign a paper or something, before I go to work?" Riley asked, hopping on one foot as she shoved her other foot into a boot.

"I'll call the governor on the way to the office," Steve said casually.

"Sure, on the way to the office, standing in the middle of the garage, wherever it's convenient," Danny grumbled. "Then you shove into people's apartments and bulldoze them into joining your taskforce."

"Into being my partner," Steve reminded him, as they climbed into the Silverado. "And he loves it, don't let him fool you, Riley."

"I do," Danny sighed. "So help me, I do."

Steve shot him a shit-eating grin and turned on the lights.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve pulled the Silverado next to Grover's huge black SUV, parked, along with dozens of other law enforcement vehicles, in front of the Bishop Museum.

"It's beautiful," Riley breathed, her eyes wide, completely entranced by the stone facade and carefully groomed landscaping of the historical and cultural museum. "Why would anyone threaten to damage it?"

"Because of the reaction you just had," Steve said. "This is one of Hawaii's absolutely priceless collections. Someone thinks they can strike a bargain; hold the museum for ransom."

"Not just the museum," Grover said, handing Steve and Danny each a SWAT radio. "We've got twenty-five terrified employees inside: guides, scientists, curators . . . the guy who takes care of the fish. Thankfully, one of the curators noticed that several of the exhibits had been disturbed, and found wiring where it didn't belong. He called it in, and sure enough, the K9 unit reacted to explosive."

"Any word from our bomber?" Danny asked. "Demands?"

"Not yet, but here's the thing," Grover said, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "Every time someone opens a door or window, a small explosive charge goes off, somewhere on the premises. So far we're five for five of attempts to enter or exit the facility ending in an explosion of some sort - usually in another wing, or even out here, on the grounds." Grover pointed to a beautiful flowering shrub which had been severely damaged, its deep yellow blooms scattered in a wide radius. "But the last attempt, the door that we tried to go in blew; a small charge, but still enough to send our guy to Tripler. The employees are understandably terrified to try anything else."

"Brilliantly executed," Riley muttered. Steve nodded in begrudging appreciation of the bomber's tactics.

"Our first priority is to get those people out of there," Steve said. "Let's look at the building schematics."

Grover nodded and motioned them over to the large communications truck. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, holding him back for a moment as Danny and Riley entered the truck ahead of them.

"Did I miss the memo that it's bring-your-sister-to-work day?" he asked Steve.

Steve sighed. "Captain, I've been given approval by the governor to officially add her to the task force."

"This your way to try to protect her, Steve?"

"I won't bother to deny that's part of it, yes. WoFat captured and tortured her, Lou - twice. So yeah, forgive me for not wanting her out of my sight. But this is more than that. The things she can do with a computer . . . even Jerry has never seen anything like it. The plan was to set her up in the tech lab on Monday; let her report to Charlie. But she can hold her own in the field. I'll explain later, but trust me. She's more than capable."

Grover studied Steve for a long moment. "Okay then. You know I like your sister, Steve. This isn't personal. But making her part of Five-O? I don't like it. That said, I obviously can't pull rank on the governor, and Five-O already has a history of mixing business and family."

"It's the way we do it on the island," Chin said mildly, as he and Kono joined them.

Grover grunted and headed into the huge truck that housed the mobile communications equipment.

"What's crawled up Lou's ass?" Kono asked.

"I've been given approval by the governor to officially add Riley to Five-O," Steve said. "Grover, however, does not approve. If he sees what she's capable of, he'll understand. Hell, when we figure out what she's capable of, he'll try to poach her away to SWAT. Come on, let's get you guys up to speed. We've got bigger problems than personnel."

#*#*#*#*#

"This is a bad, bad, idea," Danny groused. He was squinting up at Steve, feeding the slack rope behind him into a neat coil. For all of his complaining, Steve had learned early on that Danny was a competent climber, and a dependable belay.

Steve was halfway up the wall, and he wasn't sure that he would beat Riley to the top. "Come on, Danny," he said, reaching for a better grip. "If it were an underwater approach, I'd be diving with Kono. Going over a wall, I'm climbing with Riley."

"Who is beating you, by the way," Chin pointed out, from his position as Riley's belay.

They had identified one, and only one, point of access into the museum: a wall with no windows or doors. It was the only spot that the dogs had not alerted for explosives, so it was the only spot that Steve dared try to make entry. Schematics seemed sound; according to the building plans, it was a simple wall, built between two buildings to enhance the appearance of the facade and create a courtyard effect. The objection from the team was the exposure - if the bomber was watching; and the way the place was rigged, it certainly seemed likely - Steve and Riley would be targets. Moving targets, to be sure, and of course SWAT was covering them from the ground, but the higher they got, the more Danny worried and mother-henned.

"Frank said you were a good climber," Steve said, glancing over at Riley. She'd paused to find a foothold in the stone facade.

"I don't know if I'm placing the cams correctly," Riley said. "Though I don't plan to fall, so it shouldn't matter."

"Joe didn't teach you to use cams, I take it," Steve said.

"Nope. Said not to fall," Riley answered, grinning at him. "So I didn't fall. Well, once."

"What happened?" Steve asked, wedging his foot firmly between two stones.

"I'm really not sure. I was climbing, and then I was laying at the bottom, and Frank was yelling at Joe."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Steve said. "Hey, be careful with that hand; don't pull your stitches."

"Oh, that reminds me; can you take these out tonight? They're bugging me," Riley said, wrinkling her nose in frustration.

"They can't possibly be ready to come out," Steve said. "If they're hurting, we need to get Malia to take a look. Okay, can you hold there? Let me look over the wall." He pushed himself easily up onto the thick stone wall, drawing his SIG, and cautiously looking over the side.

"Okay, it's clear as far as I can tell," he said, pulling the rope all the way up and tying it off securely. "You good with rappelling down?"

"Yeah, I'm good with that," Riley said, grinning at him.

"Great. They're both grinning like idiots." Danny's voice came floating up to them.

"Okay. Stay here, there's at least some cover in this corner of the wall, with the tree. Let me get to the bottom, clear it, and then you come down," Steve instructed.

Riley nodded, perching where Steve had indicated and pulling up her length of rope. She rolled her eyes as Steve tied it off.

"I do know how to tie a knot, sailor," she said dryly.

Steve smiled apologetically and disappeared over the side of the wall. Riley couldn't help but be impressed with the speed of his descent; not so much a rappel as a free fall, expertly halted before hitting the bottom. He cleared the immediate area, and then pulled his socks and boots out of his backpack and put them back on, as Riley rappelled down and landed quietly next to him. Her boots were in his pack as well, and he handed them to her.

"Thanks," she said, pulling them on quickly. "Now what?"

"Now, we find a way to get Danny, Chin, and Kono in here," he said, "and we get these employees out safely."

#*#*#*#*#

" _He's made an interesting decision, making the girl part of the task force. It will be harder to separate her from him."_

" _True; however, if this morning is any indication, we'll have the data we'd hoped to collect in no time. You say this wasn't arranged?"_

" _No, it wasn't our work. Excellent field test, though. I'd like to thank whoever did set it up. It's a brilliant piece of work."_

" _Keep me posted. And remember our agreement: I want complete data. Bide your time. This can't be rushed."_

" _Understood."_

 _#*#*#*#*#_


	13. Field Test 2

"We have to assume that every point of entry and exit is wired," Steve said, as they carefully made their way along the wall and toward the main exhibit hall.

"Couldn't Danny and the others just climb over?" Riley asked. "We could have dropped the ropes back over for them."

"They could have," Steve said, "but I don't like the sounds of this set-up: trigger points setting off explosions in secondary locations? Until we get a feel for the situation, the fewer potential triggers, the better."

Steve paused, putting a hand up to signal Riley to stop. She did, instantly and without question. It was uncanny, but then, Joe had trained them both. He whipped out a large knife from his boot and carefully probed at a disrupted spot in the otherwise manicured lawn. There was a flat, flexible panel embedded with circuitry.

He grinned over his shoulder at Riley. "This is why I wanted to come in quiet and small."

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Riley whispered, looking over his shoulder.

"Only in training exercises," he said, letting go of the device with infinite care. "The IEDs we encountered in Afghanistan were much less high-tech."

He stepped around the device carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when he was safely past it. Riley followed precisely in his steps, and he nodded in approval. They continued their painstaking progress, uncovering one more device, poorly hidden at knee level in a flowering shrub.

"Not very stealthy," Riley observed, as Steve expertly clipped the wire that would have triggered the infrared motion detonator. "Are we supposed to be finding these?"

Steve started to answer, but a deafening explosion on the other side of the wall had him grabbing for his radio instead. He instinctively grabbed at Riley's vest and shoved her behind him.

"Danny, Chin," he said urgently. "Is anyone hit?"

"I don't think so," Danny said, "but we're still checking. It took out the entry gate."

Steve sighed. The gate itself was a precious artifact. "Damn it," he said. "Chin, have HPD and SWAT pull back. Aside from the bomb squad, send them all back to the highway and have them stage and hold there. We've got too many people exposed." He hesitated. He'd like to send Riley as far away from the scene as possible, but thanks to Joe, she was likely the most qualified and best trained person for the job.

"When a device is triggered, or disarmed, it sets of a device in a different location," Riley mused. "What the hell does this guy want? The devices are barely concealed. He wants us to find them?"

"He wants us to find them, or set them off. It's like a game of Russian roulette. The next one we trigger or disarm could take out the exhibit hall where the employees are holed up," Steve said. He pulled out an evidence bag and carefully sealed the device inside.

"He's holding the staff and the museum itself hostage," Riley said. "Or she. We can't assume."

Steve grinned at her. "Good girl," he murmured approvingly. He reached out and tugged her hair, which was fighting to escape its braid.

"I need a computer, and we need to know the locations of each device that was tripped, and each device that detonated," Riley said. "With that, maybe we can build -"

"- an algorithm," Steve finished. "It's worth a try." He clicked on his radio. "Chin, are you all still in contact with the curator inside? Ask where we can get to a decent computer."

"I'm on it, Steve, I'll get back to you ASAP," Chin's reply came over the radio.

Riley had pulled out her cell phone. "Jerry," she said. "I might need your help. We have a series of explosive devices: trigger or disarm one, a different one detonates. We've had . . . six? - " she looked to Steve for confirmation. "Six explosions. With that information, do you think we could build . . . yeah, that's what I was thinking. Okay. Yeah, Steve and I are going to get to a computer, I'll let you know. I was thinking you could go dark? Perfect."

"Steve," Chin's voice came over the radio, "the closest computer to your position is in the planetarium."

"Cool," Riley said absently. "I've never been to a planetarium."

Steve stopped and looked at her. A slow smile spread over his face. "You know what . . . I'm bringing Mary over, and we're going to take a week and explore this island together. There's so many things . . . places Mary and I haven't been in twenty years. Places I want to see again . . . together."

Riley beamed at him, and while he was glad that the idea pleased her, he felt a surge of anger at their mother, at Joe . . . at the forces that had cost them so much.

His thoughts were interrupted by another explosion; this time unprovoked, as far as they knew, by anything they had done.

"Danny?" Steve yelled into his radio again.

Silence stretched into one of the longest minutes of Steve's life.

Finally, the radio crackled. "Steve," came Kono's voice, "we're okay; did you guys disarm another bomb?"

"No, no we didn't touch a thing, Kono, did anyone out there trip something?" Steve said, pacing in small, careful steps.

"No, we didn't touch anything; the bomb squad wanted to try but Chin told them to stand -" Kono broke off with a gasp.

"Kono?" Steve said, his hand clenching the radio so tightly that Riley thought he might crush it.

"It's okay, just . . . this bomb took out the visitor center entrance. There was glass," she explained.

"You're hurt," Steve said. "Anyone else?"

"No, and I'm okay, boss," Kono assured him. "Danny is patching me right up."

"Random detonation," Steve said. "I don't like it. We've either got unstable devices or this guy - or woman - is toying with us. Let's get to that computer."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks, Jerry," Riley said. They'd found the computer easily in the planetarium office and Riley and Jerry were speaking in a language that Steve didn't even pretend to understand. His years in Naval Intelligence had served him well, and he had been able to help set up the data and the initial algorithm, but Riley kept going , her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Did Jerry pick up any chatter on the dark net?" Steve asked. "I know you had him check."

"Nothing," Riley said, "no chatter."

Steve nodded. "This doesn't look or feel like terrorism." He paced behind Riley as the keyboard clicked furiously.

"Okay, Jerry," she said, "I've got the schematics for the grounds and buildings. Superimposing the known devices - assuming we've got every exit point on the main exhibit hall set with explosives, based on worst case scenario - and the order of detonation . . . "

Steve turned and looked at the computer screen. The order of detonation was indicated by flashing lights, repeating on a loop. He stared at it, willing his mind to settle and look for . . .

"I see it," he said. "There's a pattern."

Riley studied it, tilting her head to the side. "A system of transmitters and receivers. Some of the devices aren't intended to explode at all, they just transmit to other devices when they're triggered or disabled. How do we disable it?"

"There is going to be a primary device; one that transmits and receives," Steve said decisively. "That's the only thing that makes sense. These are too well designed for me to think that most recent explosion was random or unstable. So, in order for the bomber to place all of these devices and retreat safely, there's one primary device that turns the whole system on and off."

"So we find that device and disable it," Riley said.

"Isn't that what the bomb squad is for?" Jerry's voice floated over the speaker on Riley's cell phone.

"Jerry, is there any way you can triangulate signals from this location?" Riley asked. "This computer is pretty limited. I've got data capacity but no communications software."

Jerry hesitated.

"Jerry, we've got twenty-five civilians trapped in a building and we need to get to them and get them out safely. Some of these devices may be on timers," Steve said. Riley looked at him in alarm, realizing that was the most logical explanation for the most recent explosion. "I'm exercising the immunity and means given me by the governor and authorizing you to use whatever technology you have at your disposal to help us."

They could hear the tapping of Jerry's keyboard over the speaker.

"If we're lucky, and these devices are transmitting using a cell signal, I can tap into the local cell tower and give you a good -"

Before Jerry could finish his sentence, the sound of another explosion had Steve instinctively tackling Riley to the floor. He covered her slighter frame with his own, his big hands covering her head as plaster from the ceiling showered around them.

"Guys?" Jerry's concerned voice filtered over Riley's phone. "That sounded close."

They were okay. Steve knew they were okay, kept telling himself they were okay as he hauled himself to his feet and reached down a hand, easily pulling Riley up. He knew they were on the island, not Afghanistan. So he kept telling himself that, as he checked Riley over quickly, assuring himself that she was still in one piece.

"We're okay," he called in the general direction of the cell phone, as he pulled plaster out of Riley's hair.

"Yeah, you're gonna want to turn off the computer," Jerry said urgently.

Riley immediately went to the computer and began shutting it down.

"What is it, Jerry?" Steve asked, looking around to survey the damage. The explosion hadn't been in their room, but definitely in their building. The old, plaster walls were showing cracks. "We're going to need to get out of this building, just to be safe," he said, standing next to Riley.

"The computer was the trigger," Jerry said. "Riley and I overlaid the data with the schematics, and I have a cell signal coming right from the computer lab in the planetarium. Man, I hope there wasn't too much damage . . . I love that place . . . "

"We'll be sure to forward you the damage report," Steve said dryly. "Back to the cell signals, Jerry, are there others?"

"Yeah, if your estimates as to the number and placements of the explosives are correct, then we have a pattern of about half the devices being transmitters, and half being receivers. If Riley's algorithm is correct, then the pattern is radial - explosions getting closer and closer to the main building, where the employees are."

"Jerry, can you take that algorithm and tweak it - start tracking the data of the apparently random, non-triggered explosions," Steve said. "If some of these are on timers . . . "

"Yep, then you're going to want to see if you can track and predict a pattern there. I've got it," Jerry said.

"Okay, we're out of here," Steve said, as another chunk of plaster fell.

"Are you guys okay?" Danny's anxious voice came over the radio.

"We're okay," Steve replied, "but that was too close. Jerry's working on identifying signals."

"Let us come help you," Chin suggested. "We're pacing around out here doing nothing."

"Right now just keeping yourselves relatively safe is the best thing you can do," Steve said. "Until we get something more from Jerry I'm not even sure what Riley and I can do. Every move we make, we risk triggering another explosion. Have there been any ransom demands? Anyone at all claiming responsibility for this?"

"Nothing," Chin said. "It doesn't make sense - why take an entire facility, and its staff, hostage, if you're not going to make any demands?"

His musing were cut short by another deafening blast. Steve realized with horror that the sound was louder over the radio than it was in his ears.

"Chin! Danny!" Steve yelled into the radio. He could hear muffled voices, and the sound of debris still making impact. Grover's deep voice filtered through the chatter, demanding a first aid kit.

"Shit," Steve swore quietly, and Riley squeezed his shoulder gently, feeling helpless.

"Steve," Grover's voice sounded over the radio. "We're all more or less okay, just some cuts and bruises, but that was close. The bomb squad had us positioned near the wall, but one of their guys is down from the concussion of the blast. He'll be okay; he was wearing protective gear."

"Jerry, tell me you've got something useful," Steve said. "I feel like we're just sitting in the middle of a live-round practice range here."

"Well, I've got something useful but I don't think it's going to make you any happier," Jerry said. "The pattern is definite: triggered explosives inside the grounds, timed explosives outside. All moving inward toward the main exhibit hall. Which means the next explosive likely to go off . . . "

"Will injure a civilian," Steve finished. "What are our options?"

"Well, you could start with disarming all of the receiving devices," Jerry said, "neutralize those, and then proceed to disarm the transmitting devices. But it's risky; if we miss just one . . . "

"Okay, other options?"

"There seems to be a control device. I've got a signal exponentially stronger than all of the other signals. My guess is that's the failsafe device; our bomber can either disarm the entire system or trigger the whole thing to go," Jerry explained.

"Where is it?" Steve asked, rubbing his eyes. "Is it near the bomb squad?" Maybe once, just once, he'd let the bomb squad do their job instead of -

"Negative," Jerry said, almost cheerfully. "Opposite direction. It's inside the grounds, on the other side of the library hall. Directly behind you."

"Yeah, Jerry, I know," Steve said wearily. He held down the button to speak into the radio. "Okay, Jerry thinks he's identified a control device. We're going to go see if we can safely disarm it. Seems to be our best option; those explosions outside are on timers, and the intervals are narrowing."

"Please, Steve, for the love of God, come out and let the bomb squad do this," Danny pleaded.

Steve was already moving carefully toward the library hall, Riley falling in easily a step behind him. "Negative, Danny," Steve said, "we can get there in five minutes, it would take the bomb squad longer than that just to scale the wall. Have them hold position, ready to move in to the main exhibit hall. And have the employees take shelter as best as they can."

Riley moved swiftly and silently, keeping pace with Steve. "You know this place well," she observed.

"Annual field trips for school," Steve said, "and then every summer, at least once a month, with mom and Mary. We couldn't let our brains rot."

"Every outing an educational opportunity," Riley said, grinning. "We had that in common. I don't think she ever took me anywhere that was this beautiful, though."

Steve paused a moment. "You really like it here?" he asked quietly.

"I love it here," Riley nodded. "Here, on the island, and here, with your team. And even here, half expecting an explosion any minute. I can't imagine . . . I don't think our mother and Joe prepared me for anything but this."

"You were happy at the university, though?" Steve asked, continuing to move toward the library hall.

"I was . . . busy. I liked the things I was learning in my classes. And learning outside of class," she added. "My Aikido training was going well. It was okay. But I was . . . lonely. Alone. And now I'm not."

"No, you are absolutely not alone. Riley, look, even if something were to happen to me . . . the rest of the team - you can trust them. And with the trust fund Mokoto left you, and the house -"

Riley cut him off, horrified. "Steve, what are you talking about?"

"I want you to stay here, wait for me here while I go disarm this device," he started to explain.

"Hell no, I'm not staying - you're doing the 'just in case' speech. Don't you dare . . . don't you dare do the 'just in case speech' with me, you unbelievable asshole," Riley hissed. Steve had expected her to argue about being left to take cover while he went to disarm the device, but the intensity of her protest was unexpected. "My whole life has been one big preparation for the worst case scenario and the last person to give me the speech disappeared -" Riley stopped, her voice breaking. "So don't. Just . . . don't."

"Okay, okay, sweetheart," Steve said, wrapping his arms around her, his hand easily holding her head against his shoulder as she grabbed his vest fiercely. "I won't. Okay? I won't. So come help me disarm this thing." He felt her nod against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head quickly and squeezed her shoulders before resuming his approach.

He pulled out his cell phone. "Jerry, where is the control device?" he asked.

"It's at the northwest corner of the building," Jerry said. As they got closer, Steve moved with painstaking care. It would be no surprise if the device itself was rigged.

"I see it," he said quietly. It was in plain sight; no attempts at concealment had been made. "This makes no sense," Steve muttered. "It's a coded device . . . but the wiring is fairly simple." He pulled out a tiny pair of extra sharp wire cutters.

"We were meant to find it?" Riley asked, confused. "It's too easy." She drew her weapon and racked the slide, standing with her back to Steve.

Their heads whipped up in perfect unison as a twig snapped close by.

"I could have made it much more difficult," a young man said, as he walked out of the cover of shrubs and ornamental trees surrounding the library wing. "The man who financed my demonstration said that your curiosity and arrogance would lead you straight to this point. He must know you well, to anticipate your decisions." His right hand had an automatic Glock 18 aimed squarely at Riley.

Riley squared her shoulders and slid her finger toward the trigger.

"Oh, that would be so unfortunate," the young man continued, "because I'm holding the remote detonator . . . it could end so badly for the rest of your team, and those poor people inside the museum." He laughed and held up his left hand, revealing a dead man's switch clutched in his grip. "This is quite delightful - you are indeed a predictable pair. When my father refused to invest in my tech start-up, and instead pledged hundreds of thousands of dollars to this decrepit museum, I knew I needed to make a statement. And I was fortunate enough to find someone willing to finance my company, and allow me to demonstrate my product and my skills."

Steve started to stand, to turn and face the person speaking, to try to protect Riley. She anticipated his movement and stopped him, her voice deadly calm. Resigned. It sounded so familiar . . . a softer, slightly higher pitched version of his father's voice, the last time they spoke.

"Steve. Disarm it," she said.

"Riley, WoFat is behind this, you have to -"

"Disarm it, Steve. Go ahead. I've got him," Riley said.

The young man chuckled. "You're quite confident in his abilities. What if he cuts the wrong wire?"

"He won't."

"Here's what's going to happen: now that I've proven my point, I'm going to walk away from here," the young man said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Try to stop me, and I'll drop the detonator. Disarm the device before I'm clear, and I'll drop the detonator. My product will be worth millions to interested buyers, and while you and the bomb squad spend the rest of the day carefully disarming everything, I'm off the island to start a lucrative career. If you so much as blink, I'll shoot her."

"I have no doubt you will," Riley said, "but I can promise, you won't get a shot off before I do. Here's what's really going to happen: I'll see it in your eyes, the minute he clips the wire. I'll know the civilians are safe, and the rest of our team, and I'll shoot you. Now, you'll shoot too, but it will be a split second behind me, because I've been trained by the best of the best. I'll take a headshot without blinking. I actually like my odds of surviving your shot - how about you?"

"You're willing to gamble with your life, and his?"

"Not gambling with his life," Riley said, taking a half step sideways and putting herself squarely in front of Steve. "Not gambling with the lives of our team, or the civilians, because I already know he can disarm the device. Steve, cut the wire."

"So you're just gambling with your life? I was told you had a careless disregard for your well-being; I must say, I thought it was exaggerated. I see that I'm mistaken. What a passionate little thing you are, just as he said."

Riley laughed dryly. "Passion has nothing to do with it. It's pure logic."

Steve was fairly vibrating with anger, and his hand drifted toward his gun without his conscious thought.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that at all," the young man said. "I definitely can drop the detonator and shoot her before you turn around," he said smugly.

"Steve, I've got him," Riley repeated calmly. "We've won, it doesn't matter. The civilians are safe, Danny goes home to his little girl, Chin and Kono go home to Malia and their family, and Five-O has their leader."

"Riley," Steve said desperately, "you are not expendable . . . "

"Steve, it's okay." Her voice was full of affection . . . not a trace of regret. "My arm is getting a little tired, and he's looking a little shaky, so you need to do this now. This is our best case scenario for the best possible outcome, and you know it. Cut the damn wire, Steve."

Her words resonated in the part of his brain that had been carefully trained to be devoid of emotion, that operated on pure logic and chain of command. Almost without volition, his hand made a sure and decisive squeeze around the wire cutting tool.

As it turned out, Riley had been right.

There was a soft snick behind her, and a look of anger and alarm on the face of the young man in front of her. By the time Steve whirled around, his Sig in hand, multiple shots had been fired. The young man was prone on the ground, a bullet wound neatly through his forehead; his gun and the detonator thrown to each side by the impact of his body falling backward. Steve glanced at the discarded gun, getting a look at it for the first time. Riley wanted to grin at Steve, tell him 'I told you so', and tease him for being so worried about her. But he was inexplicably far away, and at an odd angle. She couldn't see the library behind him, just the sky, and that puzzled her. She tried to ask him why the world was tilted so strangely, but she couldn't seem to get her voice to cooperate.

"Riley, I've got you," Steve was saying. She smiled at him. Of course he had her, that was the point. Why did he look so upset?

Steve was yelling into his cell phone and his radio at the same time.

"Chin, coordinate with Jerry - what's the status on the cell signals coming from those devices; Jerry, did it work? Get the bomb squad on it, have them go in after the employees and get them out. Danny, Grover, get EMS or SWAT medic to the northwest corner of the library hall."

"Already on the way, Steve," Danny's voice came over the radio, but Steve could already hear him tramping through the grounds.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Steve said, leaving the radio open but throwing it down as he frantically searched Riley for injuries. "The area hasn't been cleared."

"Your radio was open the whole time, Steve, we heard everything. Cleared or not cleared, I'm coming to you, hold on," Danny's voice came, through the radio, grim and determined. "Who's hit? Are you hit?"

"No," Steve said, his voice filling with panic. "Riley's hit . . . it was an automatic, he got off multiple shots . . . there's blood . . . Danny, I don't think she's breathing."

 _Oh_ , Riley thought. _Well that would explain why I can't talk._

"Riley, honey, you had to know that was an automatic," Steve said, "you had to know this was a bad, bad plan. How many shots did he get off? What were you thinking?" He ignored the blood coming from just at her hairline, knowing that superficial head wounds usually looked were than they really were, and focused instead on the blood coming from her side, just under her vest, while searching for any points of impact on her vest. He glanced up as Danny came crashing through the trees, Kono on his heels.

While Kono quickly and efficiently cleared the area, kicking the gun away and confirming the lack of pulse on the young man, Danny slid to his knees next to Steve.

"I've got pressure here," Danny said, pressing his hands firmly against Riley's side. Steve started pulling on the velcro straps on Riley's vest.

"Okay, vest stopped two," Steve said, loosening the straps quickly. "Riley, I know it hurts, honey, and you got the wind knocked out of you . . . try to take a breath for me, can you do that? I've loosened the vest."

Kono peered over Steve's shoulder, her eyes wide with alarm. Riley's skin was so pale it was gray, and her lips were tinged with blue.

But Riley's eyes were fixed on Steve's, the identical hazel gaze unwavering. He had asked her to breathe, so she would. It was that simple. She tried inhaling, and managed a choked gasp, and then another, as oxygen refilled her deprived lungs. Steve dropped his head in relief as some color returned to her face.

"You're . . . hit . . . " Riley gasped out.

"No, sweetie, you are," Steve said, "but Danny's got you, and the bus is on the way."

"Steve," Kono said gently, "she's right, brah, you're hit. That's where some of the blood is coming from." She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, just under a graze that had skimmed over the top, right at the edge of his vest. "Missed the ink, though, nice."

"Told . . . you . . . " Riley said, and laughed, coughing.

"Would you, please, for the love of God, stop talking and hold still," Danny said, through gritted teeth.

"I hear the bus," Kono said, "I'll go bring them around." She took off at a quick jog around the corner of the building.

"Riley McGarrett," Danny said, peering intently at Riley, his crystal blue eyes locked on to hers. "I want to make something perfectly clear; right here, right now. I don't know what kinds of bullshit you were raised with, but I do know that some of it is the same kind of bullshit that your idiot brother was raised with, so I'm gonna assume it comes from Doris and Joe. You are not expendable. And the next time you take on an idiot with an automatic weapon out of some self-sacrificing notion that your life is less valuable than mine, or Chin's, or anyone else's, I'll . . . " He stopped, at a loss, and shook his head.

"You'll . . . what . . . " Riley panted.

"I'll make you listen to Steve's music. On repeat. It's horrible, he has horrible taste in music," Danny said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at her.

"It really . . . is . . . " Riley said. "Have you seen . . . the CDs? Who even . . . owns CDs?"

"Very funny, the both of you," Steve said. "Okay, kiddo, your ride is here."

Kono rounded the corner with two medics carrying a backboard, and in a flurry of efficiency, she was loaded and being carried to the waiting SWAT medic truck. Danny, Steve, and the medics each had a handhold, while Kono deftly carried the IV bag.

"It's good that you don't weigh nearly as much as your big brother," Danny said, still smiling down at Riley. Her color was still terrible and the sheer amount of blood was frightening, but if she was responsive enough to join Danny in ragging on Steve's taste in music, he was going to take that as a good sign. They loaded Riley expertly into the back of the vehicle, Steve jumping in next to her.

"Sir, we need to look at your shoulder," was the last thing Danny heard, as he gave the closed doors a solid thump and the vehicle pulled away. Only then did Danny stop, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. Kono patted his back sympathetically.

"They'll be okay, Danny," she said.

"Oh, they'll be patched up," Danny said, shaking his head, "but they are far from okay."

#*#*#*#*#

" _What were today's readings?"_

" _Mental acuity is still extraordinary. Gamma waves were the highest we'd ever measured, during the session in the planetarium lab; only one burst of beta waves. Her enhanced brain functionality is clearly a success."_

" _But, there was something in the day's event that unduly stressed her? During the stand-off?"_

" _No, during the transit between the planetarium and the library."_

" _Interesting. It would only have been the two of them, correct?"_

" _That's correct."_

" _What about the bio-chemistry?"_

" _Cortisol readings were high, which is expected, but unfortunate. Over time, cortisol is going to create suboptimal stress reactions. Adrenaline and norepinephrine are high. Endorphins are off the chart. Enhanced pain suppression is also clearly a success."_

" _Why don't we just bring her in? It's obvious the genetic enhancements are functioning as expected - have exceeded expectations?"_

" _The data is far from complete. We have some brain wave and bio-chemistry readings; we have nothing on strength, endurance, and long-term pain suppression. Nor the enhanced healing capabilities. It's unfortunate that she was injured; however, we should have some solid data by the end of the week."_

" _Right, and we'd have more accurate data if we brought her in, observed her here."_

" _No, her cortisol readings would be off the chart if we separated her from McGarrett at this point. It would be artificial; it would skew the readings. I've warned you, be patient."_

 _"We've been patient for two decades. We won't be kept waiting indefinitely. And I've warned you - your objectivity will be questioned if you put us off too long."_


	14. Field Test 3

**A/N: I didn't realize this story was going to nudge into science-fiction . . . blame the Special Activities Division. I had no idea what they were up to.**

" _Good morning, gentlemen. It's been almost a week since the museum incident. Where are we with the data?" The voice on the speakerphone was electronically altered._

" _As expected, the subject continues to exhibit advanced healing capabilities. Thankfully, the bullet missed vital organs. It was a deep graze. She was discharged from hospital care two days ago." The man speaking was at the head of the table; clearly asserting his higher standing over the others seated at the table. HIs suit and tie were impeccable, his nails manicured._

" _This is why I believe we should bring her in immediately. What if the bullet had nicked her spleen or liver? Her physician has to already be questioning the rapid recovery; we risk complete exposure if there is an attempt to repair an organ in surgery, or even worse, an organ fails and a transplant is suggested." The man, seated in one of the side chairs, looked tired. His tie was loosened, and he sported a day's growth of stubble._

" _Commander McGarrett is highly unlikely to allow her to be put at risk again. Cortisol readings are low; either emotionally taxing situations are not a current issue, or she's being shielded from it somehow. Real time gamma wave readings indicate that the subject is engaged in highly challenging mental exercise: mostly likely another attempt at an algorithm or programming task." He dismissed the concerns of his exhausted companion with a frown and a flick of the wrist. "We continue."_

#*#*#*#*#

"Arrrrgggghhh," RIley growled in frustration, while Jerry chuckled at her.

"I honestly expected you to be much better at this," he observed, setting his controller aside and taking Riley's. He handed her a water bottle and sandwich in exchange. Steve's orders had been explicit: keep her mind off of Joe White, make sure she had plenty to drink, and remind her to eat. "You will never level up until you start looking out for number one. Numeral uno. You, yourself, and you."

"But the objective of the game is to complete the mission," Riley argued. "If I had taken out that sniper's nest and saved myself, then I might have leveled up, but the mission would have been incomplete."

Jerry blinked at her. "But you would have been alive. Staying alive is sort of crucial to leveling up."

"But what about the mission?" Riley asked, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"This is why you are one of the most requested players, despite your almost embarrassingly low personal score. Hey, how's your side feeling? Do you need me to, you know, check the bandage or anything?"

"Nah, it's fine. Hey, want to work on the programming for that Roswell database? I think I may have fixed the bug for the duplicate entries from the mis-matched platform interface."

This was definitely, absolutely, the best assignment Steve had ever given him.

#*#*#*#*#

"Is there something you wanted to ask me, son?" Joe White inquired.

Steve glared at him. He thought he'd made it perfectly clear; that sort of sentiment was no longer welcome from Joe, as it had clearly not been earned to begin with.

"Sorry," Joe said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Old habits die hard; and no matter what you may think of me, there'll never be a time that I don't think of you and Riley as my responsibility, my greatest accomplishments."

"Even though neither of us are any longer under your control?" Steve asked. He took a bite of shrimp. Meeting Joe at Kamekona's somehow seemed better than bringing him in to Five-O offices. He didn't want to risk giving Joe the impression that he was somehow now working for or with Five-O . . . and he didn't want to raise too many questions as to his presence in the office. The line between official and personal investigation was blurry, to say the least.

Joe smiled at that. "Control, of any sort, is just an illusion. And I'm proud of you and Riley, regardless. Sorry to hear that she was injured; how is she doing?" Joe tried to keep his voice neutral, even though he was fiercely curious.

"It was a deep graze," Steve said, studying Joe's response. "Close enough range that the bullet gouged out the flesh. It certainly wasn't clean or neat. She had multiple layers of stitches, IV antibiotics, of course, because of the risk of infection. You've seen similar injuries in the field, I'm sure."

"I have," Joe nodded.

"So what's your guess as to how she's doing at this point," Steve said. "It's been six days."

"I'd say she's probably being discharged from the hospital now, barring infection."

"She was discharged two days ago. No sign of infection."

"Well, that's good, Steve. Glad to hear it."

"She's a fast healer," Steve said, his voice impassive. Malia had gone over Riley's medical records with him the day of discharge, explaining that the tissue repair was a full week ahead of what they had expected. They had only kept her in order to monitor a fever, for which they had no explanation, and which resolved quickly - although they determined that apparently her 'normal' body temperature was a good degree higher than average.

"Well, she's young, in excellent health," Joe said mildly, smiling at Steve, "and stubbornness runs in her family. I seem to recall you frustrating medical personnel more than once with your quick exits from hospital care."

"I've had injuries similar to hers," Steve said. "Don't recall healing this quickly."

"Well, you know, there are many who say that this idea of women as the weaker sex is neither literally or culturally relevant," Joe replied.

"So that's your explanation, then?" Steve asked, his eyes inscrutable.

"I wasn't aware that I was expected to explain your sister's medical history," Joe said. "That's not my area of expertise. I would advise you to consult with the lovely Malia Waincroft."

Steve grunted and took a bite of his shrimp.

"Do you know where our mother is right now, Joe?" he asked abruptly.

"Not currently, no," Joe said.

"Do you know anything useful at all? Or are you still playing games?

"Steve, the last time I spoke to your mother, she was going to go off the grid. It is the only thing she can do at the moment that makes you and Riley safer, as opposed to putting you into more danger," Joe said, looking Steve steadily in the eyes.

Steve was silent for a moment. Everything about Joe's body language, including his pupil dilation and respiration, said that he was telling the truth. Of course, Steve knew how to fool a polygraph test, and he assumed Joe did as well.

"And when was the last time you spoke with my mother?" he asked, fixing Joe with an unwavering gaze.

"The day I went home from the hospital," Joe said.

Steve sat in stunned silence.

"So she is alive," he said quietly.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that, son," Joe said.

Steve stood up so quickly from the table that Joe flinched and Kamekona glanced over at them in alarm.

"Go home, Joe," Steve said in a low tone.

"Steve, I -"

"Joe. Go. Home. Get out of my sight, before I test the limits of what exactly Agent Fielding meant when he said that I could do with you whatever I pleased. Go."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sat across from Chin's desk, his fingers steepled in front of his face. His unusual slouch spoke volumes regarding his state of mind - Chin could have sworn he stepped back onto the island at attention and stayed that way. There were faint smudges of dark under his eyes, and the early afternoon sunlight glinted off some silver strands mixed with the dark brown at his temples. Chin suspected there were even some frown lines forming, but he couldn't be sure, under the layer of thicker than usual scruff.

"If he had any indication at all, Steve, he certainly never hinted to me," Chin said. "I'm so sorry; I can't imagine, after twenty years . . . " Chin shook his head.

"Do you think he knew? The whole time? Do you think he sent us away, knowing that our mom was still alive?" Steve asked.

Chin hesitated. "Steve, this is so much to take in. You've just found out that Joe has been lying to you, betrayed you. Your mother has been alive and not forthcoming with her whereabouts or intentions. My advice? At this point, unless you have solid evidence otherwise, assume that your dad is someone you can take at face value. He was a good man, Steve, and he loved you and Mary more than anything. Assume he was telling you the truth as he knew it."

"That makes sense, Chin, and you're right - that would make everything easier," Steve sighed. "Just one problem, though."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"My father's last words to me were an apology. For lying."

Chin could not think of anything to say, so he remained silent, his eyes warm and compassionate. Steve smiled at him, knowing that Chin would do anything to make him feel better - except add to the lies. Finally, Steve stood and walked slowly to the center console, where Danny and Kono had their heads bent over a file.

"Anything, guys?" Steve asked.

Danny shook his head in disappointment. "Sorry, babe. We've chased down every potential lead, even the truly far-fetched ones. Dead ends, every single one. WoFat has disappeared not only off the island, but apparently off the face of the earth."

"Maybe Catherine," Kono suggested, but Steve shook his head at that, too.

"No, she's been given the stand-down in no uncertain terms. Special Activities Division doesn't want to play nice with Naval Intelligence, and I won't let Catherine risk her career - or her life - defying clear orders and common sense," Steve said.

"What about your mom?" Kono asked, in a very quiet voice, her eyes wide.

"Joe says he spoke with her the day he got out of the hospital," Steve said. "He claims that he has no idea where she is; that she's staying hidden in order to protect me and Riley."

"Do you believe him?" Danny asked skeptically.

"No, which is why Riley and I have other measures in place," Steve said. He sighed and looked at his watch. "Speaking of, I need to go meet up with her at Jerry's."

#*#*#*#*#

"Nothing?" Steve asked, as he slid into the driver's seat of the Silverado.

"Nothing," Riley replied glumly. She winced a little as she pulled the seatbelt across her body. "Not one email, incoming or outgoing, on any of the old accounts. The one time Joe actually follows rules that he's given . . . anything on the surveillance?"

"No. No one coming or going. It's almost as if . . . " Steve hesitated.

"As if he's afraid," Riley said quietly. "What could make a man like Joe White afraid?"

Steve couldn't answer. He didn't want to know.

"Hey, Charlie is really looking forward to meeting you and getting you set up in the lab, but are you sure you're up to this? It doesn't have to be today," Steve said, as they pulled back into the palace parking lot.

"I want to get started," Riley insisted. "Please, I've been doing nothing useful."

"Jerry seemed pretty excited about what you accomplished this morning," Steve teased. "Okay, start with Charlie today, but you have to promise, if you need to stop, you'll come upstairs to my office and rest."

"Whatever," Riley said, rolling her eyes.

#*#*#*#*#

"The placement seems to be perfect, and the data stream is working beautifully. Thank you for your service, WoFat," the director said, speaking crisply into the speaker phone on the conference table. "I know this wasn't originally the plan, but what's the motto? One that McGarrett would appreciate - 'Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome'? I hope this token of our appreciation will make it worth your while."

"Thank you, Director Garrison," came the smooth, cultured reply. "I am honored to be of service."

The call ended with a click.

"I don't like it," said the agent sitting to Garrison's left. "Special Activities Division was designed to protect the interests of national security, not become fixated on one fringe project."

"That's why Special Activities Division created this agency," Garrison said coldly. "So that it could distance itself from the project. I assure you, what we are doing here is contained. And it is in the interest of national security. Do you realize what the potential for the agency - for all of the agencies - will be, if this proves successful? We have twenty-five years invested in this 'fringe project'. It's arguably the pinnacle of the entire division."

"I still don't like it," the agent repeated, "the risks are unacceptable. We don't know if Joe White is going to cooperate with us or not. It could go either way. WoFat is currently being controlled by money, but he has his own agenda, and no particular loyalty to Special Activities. To anyone."

"We are collecting the data, and we have the girl. McGarrett thinks he is protecting her, when in fact, he is creating the perfect field test. This is so much better than what we could ever duplicate in a lab. It's simply changed the timeline," Garrison argued. "Shelburne has approved the new direction of the project, that's all you need to know."

The agent shook his head. "You are dangerously underestimating him. If he finds out what's going on, McGarrett will burn this to the ground."

"He can't discredit us; no one would believe him," Garrison argued.

"Discredit?" the agent laughed. "You're worried about being discredited. Do you have any idea what that man is capable of? And what if we can't control the girl? We're just beginning to understand what she can do. What about the theory that abilities will exponentially increase with use? Discredit; that's rich. If he finds out . . . being discredited is the least of your worries. They will never find our bodies."

"Well, then Agent Fielding, I suggest you do your job. Get us the data we want, keep Joe White and Steve McGarrett in check, and keep tabs on the girl," the director said coldly.

"You don't ask for much, do you Director Garrison?" Fielding said sarcastically. He stood to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, and looked back. "And Garrison? 'Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome' is a motto of the US Marine Corps . . . not the Navy Seals."

"Arrogant prick", Fielding muttered to himself, as he left the room.

#*#*#*#*#

"I don't think you should tell her at the office, babe," Danny said, sitting thoughtfully across Steve's desk.

"At home?"

Danny shook his head. "You know how sometimes a certain smell, or song, can take you back in time? To a specific event?"

"Yeah, like an association," Steve said, nodding.

"Yeah, exactly. So, I'll be honest, Steve, I'm amazed that you have dealt as well as you have with living in the home where you grew up; being notified there of your mom's death, knowing that your dad . . . I mean, when I met you, your house was an active crime scene," Danny said. He paused, studying Steve, his blue eyes filled with compassion. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

Steve nodded again. "So, you want me to keep Riley from having those associations?"

"I think it couldn't hurt to try," Danny said. "Just my thoughts, for what it's worth. But I think she has an awful lot to deal with, and I think having your home and Five-O offices as a safe space, with as many positive associations as possible, would be a good idea."

"That makes sense, Danny," Steve said. He looked out the window pensively. "She needs a place like your overlook."

"Well," Danny said, shrugging. "I don't own it, you know. That's not a bad idea."

#*#*#*#*#

"So, she's alive," Riley said quietly, the wind moving through her wavy brown hair. She looked out over the water, rubbing her hand lightly over the stone wall of the overlook.

"Joe claims that he spoke with her the day he came home from the hospital," Steve clarified. "He hasn't been the most trustworthy, you know."

"You think he's lying about this?"

Steve sighed.

"Please, Steve," Riley said, looking at him. "Please be honest with me. No one else is, apparently."

"No," he said finally. "I don't think Joe is lying about this. I think our mother is alive."

"I do, too," Riley whispered. "But . . . " she stopped, and looked back out over the water again.

"What, sweetheart?" Steve said, brushing her hair out of her face.

"I don't know if I want to find her. Or if I want her to find us," Riley said slowly. "I don't think . . ."

"You don't think you can trust her," Steve said.

Riley nodded. "I don't think I can trust anyone," she half laughed, half sobbed.

Steve hesitated again, and wished, not for the first time, that Danny had come with them. He took a deep breath, and reached out awkwardly, gathering Riley in his arms. She stiffened at first, then relaxed and leaned against him. He rubbed his hand in gentle circles on her shoulder as she rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"You can trust me, Riley," he said quietly. "I swear to God, you can trust me."

#*#*#*#*#

The digital alteration disguised the voice, but not the irritation in it.

"It's a full week, gentlemen, and all we have is more gamma wave data. Nothing on physical capabilities."

Garrison held up his hands in a placating gesture, despite the fact that the voice on the other end of the speakerphone couldn't see him. "According to the tracking device, the girl goes between the home, headquarters, and then another home out in the suburbs. As we predicted, McGarrett is keeping her close for protection; not taking further advantage of her capabilities. The signal is weaker at Five-O headquarters; our guess is that she's working in the lab in the basement. That would explain the gamma wave data."

"Yes," the voice said. Even altered, the disgust was evident. "Gamma wave activity which is not even scratching the surface of potential. I did not give my entire life to this program to have the subject turned into a data entry clerk. What about this house in the suburbs? The data would indicate that there's a least a bit of a challenge there; the gamma activity is significantly higher when the subject is located there. Send a team. No serious damage; let's see what we get in a perceived threat situation."

The call ended abruptly, as usual.

"I don't like this," Fielding said. "There isn't enough control."

"Shelburne wants field data; this is the best way to collect it," Garrison argued. "Take a team."

Fielding stared him down. "I'll send a team. I'm not blowing my cover. They think I'm an analyst with Special Activities; that's how it's going to stay."

#*#*#*#*#

The ding of the elevator announced Riley's arrival to the main floor, where the team was clustered around the central computer console. Pictures of exotic animals were posted on the plasma screens, and Riley tilted her head in interest.

"We have another poacher," Kono explained. "And so far, not many leads."

Riley nodded. "I heard Charlie say that our lab was likely to start smelling like a zoo with the new case; I didn't know what he meant."

"These cases sometimes involve . . . evidence," Kono said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and making Riley laugh.

"Did Charlie send you up to get a file?" Steve asked.

"No . . . " Riley said hesitantly. "I have an appointment. For the stitches? And then I was thinking . . . Charlie doesn't have anything else for me today; maybe I could go over to Jerry's."

Steve nodded. "Danny and I are going to interview a pet store owner near Queen's medical center. Chin, you and Kono go check out that import pet store over by the harbor, yeah? Hang on Riley, I'll just close down the stuff in my office, and be right back."

Danny followed Steve into his office.

"Stitches? She tear something?" he asked quietly, as Steve shut down his computer.

"No. They need to come out," Steve said. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Danny, watching for his reaction.

"Way too soon," Danny said, confusion clouding his features. "Steve, I was on the scene, remember? I saw that wound. Malia said there were two layers of stitches, it was so deep. There's no way . . ."

"And yet, here we are," Steve said. "I checked last night myself. Stitches probably should have come out yesterday."

"I know she has youth on her side," Danny said slowly. "But you wouldn't have aneurysm face if this wasn't . . . hinky."

"Hinky, Danny?"

"Got a better word for it?"

Steve sighed. He didn't. "Come on, Danno, let's go see if we can catch our Dr. Doolittle."

#*#*#*#*#

Despite Riley's protests, Steve insisted on staying at the hospital and waiting for her to have the stitches removed.

"Steve, just drop me off, go on to your interview," she'd said. "You seriously don't have to babysit me. It's just getting stitches pulled - honestly, you could have done it yourself. I could have done it, if it weren't for the weird angle. I can't reach."

"Which tells me you tried to reach, which, eww," Danny said. "Here in the civilized world, we don't take our own stitches out. Well, you and Steve probably do, given that Joe taught you to be all you could be."

"That's the Army, Danny," Steve said in annoyance. "Let us wait with you, and then you can go on the interview with us."

"Oh," Riley said, reconsidering her protest. A suspect interview, and at a pet store, sounded interesting.

Steve smiled and parked the car.

"Riley," Malia said warmly, as they entered the emergency department. The rest of the staff had long ago quit questioning the tendency of the entire Five-O team to use Malia as their primary care physician. As if they could really make regular doctor's appointments between knife lacerations and bullet wounds. "We'll go in the suture room here and get you fixed up and back on your way. Boys, you can sit right out here; this shouldn't take but a few minutes."

Steve and Danny obediently dropped into the plastic chairs just outside the curtain, and Malia smiled to herself. It really never got old, ordering them around. She gently steered Riley behind the curtain and let her get settled on the gurney as she set up the tray of instruments.

Malia sighed in dismay at the stitches. "Riley, I'm so sorry . . . I don't understand, it's too soon, but the skin has started to grow around . . . it's good you came in today, but this is still going to hurt. Let me give you a local." She started to prep a syringe of lidocaine, but Riley shook her head.

"No, Malia, it's fine, really and truly," she said. "Just go ahead."

Steve and Danny could easily hear their conversation, and glanced at each other in concern. They sat in misery as the minutes went by; Riley did not make a sound, but the constant apologies and reassurances from Malia indicated that the removal was difficult and painful.

"Okay, sweetie, that was the last one," Malia said, finally, and they could hear the sound of the instruments being placed gently back on the tray. "You're going to want to keep this covered for a couple of days, okay? Alright, I'll let you get sorted."

Malia stepped to the other side of the curtain with Steve and Danny. She was visibly shaken and distressed.

"Whoa, babe," Danny said quietly, putting his arm around her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Malia said, but she leaned against Danny all the same. "That was . . . " she motioned them away from the curtain, and spoke quietly. "The skin had grown around the stitches. You would think they had been in for over two weeks, not just barely one week. I had to . . . well, let's just say there is no way that wasn't incredibly painful. I'm so sorry, Steve, I had no idea. I've never seen anything like this."

"It wasn't like that when I checked last night," Steve said, "or I would have gone ahead and removed them. It's not your fault, Malia. I asked Joe . . . he stonewalled me, but I think he knows something."

Danny's eyebrows shot up in question, but Riley came out from behind the curtain before he could ask. She was a bit pale but was moving easily.

"Now can we go to the pet store?" she said, smiling.

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, that was interesting," Danny groused, pulling feathers off his shirt.

"That bird really had it in for you, Danny," Riley said, grinning at him as they walked back to the Camaro. She glanced at Steve, wondering if they should mention the trail of bird shit running down the back of Danny's dress shirt. Steve shrugged and smirked at her.

"No, I meant it was interesting, the way every single animal in there looked at you like you were Dr. Doolittle and Jack Hanna rolled into one, kid," Danny said.

"I like animals," Riley said simply. "If you like animals, they know it, and they like you back. You obviously don't like animals, Danny, and they can sense that."

"But I do like animals," Danny protested. "I like dogs, especially. But not birds. I do not like birds."

"I think the feeling is mutual, Danno," Steve said, as they headed off toward Jerry's house.

"What is that smell . . . " Danny wondered.

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you're okay?" Steve asked, as they waited on Jerry's porch. "Malia said that didn't go well. I can take you home, first, then go back to the office." He brushed an errant wave of hair out of Riley's face.

"I'm fine," Riley insisted. "We are almost done with Jerry's crazy Roswell database, and I want to check and see if there's been any activity at all on Joe's accounts. And then I think we're going to start programming on a new video game. But if you get anything on the poaching case, and Charlie needs me to come in . . . "

"I'll send someone for you, I promise," Steve said. "You're sure this is okay?"

Riley smiled sheepishly. "Hanging out with Jerry is really a lot of fun. Kind of like my first semester at the university. I don't mean to be ungrateful, truly, I am so happy with my job at Five-O but . . . "

"It's kind of boring?" Steve guessed.

"A little," Riley admitted. "Until you need something hacked; that will be interesting."

"Wait until you're asked," Steve reminded her sternly. "What is taking Jerry so long?"

"Sorry guys," Jerry said, opening the door, a bit breathless. "There was a situation with the league . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"It's called a what?" Riley asked, looking at the object on her plate dubiously.

"A Hot Pocket," Jerry said. "I can't believe you've never had one."

"Nope," Riley said, taking a tentative bite. "It's good," she added, surprised. "Thank you. And thank you, for, you know. The other thing." She pointed at her ankle, where a neat bandage had just been applied.

"I still think you should at least tell Steve," Jerry said. "Or Malia. What if you're allergic to it?"

Riley shook her head. "The fewer people who know the better. And only turn it on if I come up missing," she added sternly. "Otherwise, it's creepy. I don't want you knowing where I am all the time."

Jerry raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, but you can't let your brother kill me."

They'd been working together in mostly companionable silence for the better part of an hour. Riley was painstakingly sifting through the lines of data from the bugs she'd installed on Joe's accounts, searching for any indication of activity, and highlighting and printing anything that caught her eye. Jerry was still fiddling with his Roswell database, humming happily as pieces of information fell into neat categories.

"This frequency analysis equation you added - what's wrong?" Jerry asked, frowning at Riley. She was sitting quietly, a strange look on her face. "Did you find something with Joe?"

"Yeah, maybe some activity," she said dismissively, "but that's not . . ."

"What, what is it?" Jerry asked, as always, highly sensitive to any possible intrigue.

"I feel like - never mind, it's probably all of the electromagnetic frequencies we have down here," she laughed.

"Oh, like Ghost Hunters?" Jerry said, laughing with her. "Do we need to debunk the paranormal?"

"Maybe," Riley said, her fingers once again flying over the keyboard. "See if there's some little ghostly spirit looking over my shoulder."

"You feel like you're being watched?" Jerry asked, concerned. "Want me to call Steve?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Riley said, once again engrossed in her computer. "This is the best possible activity I've seen on this account since we started watching it. No, I'm just restless and . . . probably just itchy from getting stitches out and allergic to some of those animals, or something."

The soothing sound of keyboard strokes filled the comfortable silence for a while.

"Damn," Riley sighed. "I guess even retired Navy SEALs get spam. That's all the contact was . . . junk mail." She closed the lid of her laptop in frustration. "Let's work on the game. I'm bored."

Jerry nodded, and they both shifted over to the comfortable sofa, grabbing wireless keyboards and game controllers.

"Did you hear something?" Riley asked, pausing the game.

"Too much background audio?" Jerry asked, pulling up a screen of code.

"No, not on the game. Something upstairs," Riley said, setting her equipment aside. She pulled her boot back on her bandaged foot, and pulled a small handgun out of her other boot and clicked off the safety.

"Okay, does Steve know you carry that thing around?" Jerry asked, his eyes wide.

Riley shrugged. "I'm going upstairs to check," she said.

"And people say I'm paranoid," Jerry grumbled. "Remind me never to give you pot."

"I'll have you know I'm very mellow," Riley said absently. "Lock the basement door behind me."

Jerry started to protest.

"Look, don't argue," Riley said, in a tone that was uncannily similar to Steve's. "I don't want you to get in trouble if someone is here because of me tracking Joe. Let me just go check it out; it's probably nothing. I've been on edge all afternoon." She went soundlessly up the stairs.

Jerry looked after her for a moment and then shook his head. They were both imposing, but between the two of them, he'd rather risk Riley's wrath than Steve's. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Yeah, McGarrett? I think you better get over here . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Riley crept silently through the basement door, pressing the button to lock it before she closed it behind her. Jerry might not remember. She pondered for a moment, then shrugged and locked the door from the hallway as well. Jerry would mean well, but honestly, it would be more complicated trying to cover him as well as take care of herself.

A muffled sound in the kitchen drew her attention, followed by another in the bathroom. At least two intruders, then. Her mind quickly raced through potential scenarios, and settled on taking the kitchen first. An intruder was more likely to pick up a weapon there. She slipped through the hallway and peeked around the door, her grip tightening on her Glock 26. No, Steve *hadn't* known that she was carrying it, but then, he hadn't asked, now had he?

She almost smiled at the sight in the kitchen. A young man, probably not more than sixteen or seventeen, was rummaging through the boxes of cereal in the top cabinet. Riley put the safety back on her Glock and reholstered it. Deadly force would hardly be necessary.

"Find it?" she said dryly, and the boy turned quickly, dropping the bag and spilling the contents all over the floor.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, and turned to make a run for the back door. Riley heard the sound of clatter in the bathroom - plastic, hitting the tile floor, from the sounds of it.

"Oh no you don't," Riley said, catching up to the first intruder as he tried to wrench open the back door. She grabbed the door and pulled it back toward him, hard, catching him solidly on the jaw. His head snapped back and he staggered against the wall, stunned.

"Hey!" the second intruder yelled, coming down the hall toward the kitchen. His eyes were wild, and he grabbed a knife out of the butcher block and charged toward Riley. She neatly sidestepped and drove her elbow into his shoulder blade. The knife dropped with a clatter. Both intruders regained their bearings and charged at her. As she easily blocked their clumsy kicks and punches, she was vaguely aware of Jerry banging on the door at the stairs, and of the sound of a siren in the distance.

Bruised, and starting to bleed, the young men glanced at each other and dashed out the door. Riley watched them run at full speed down the street before she went and unlocked the door for Jerry.

"Your brother is going to kill me," Jerry complained loudly as he practically fell into the hallway.

Riley could hear a commotion from the back door.

"Riley!" Steve shouted. Danny was right behind him. Guns drawn, they cleared the entrance and came barging through the kitchen toward Jerry and Riley.

"We're right here, and we're fine," Riley said, glaring at Jerry. "And my brother wouldn't need to kill you, because you didn't need to call him."

"The hell he didn't," Steve said, frantically checking her over for injuries.

"Ow," she complained, as his hand ghosted over her side. "I'm fine; I'm perfectly fine."

"What the hell happened? I get a call from Jerry that someone has broken into the house, and then he calls to inform me that he's been locked in the basement. Riley, I was scared to death," Steve said.

"Just a couple punks," Riley said, waving him off dismissively. "Looking for prescriptions and . . . oregano . . ." she added slowly, as Danny raised his eyebrows and pointed to the kitchen floor.

"I have a card for that," Jerry said.

"What am I gonna do with you, hunh?" Steve said, in fond exasperation. "Okay, enough fun for one day. Let's head home."

"Okay, let me go get my laptop," Riley said.

Danny busied himself sweeping up the kitchen floor while Steve turned to Jerry.

"Seriously, Jerry, what the hell?" Steve demanded.

"I don't know, man," Jerry said. "She was talking earlier about how she felt like she was being watched. Then later - much later - she hears a sound up here and comes up to check it out. She locked me in the basement. Oh, and by the way, in the interest of full disclosure, she's carrying a gun. Just, you know, in case you didn't know that."

Steve looked at him sharply. "Okay, thanks Jerry."

Danny picked up the huge knife from the floor and returned it to the knife block with another pointed glance at Steve.

"Damn crazy ninja people," he muttered, straightening his tie as he stalked out the door.

#*#*#*#*#

"Nicely done, Agent Fielding. Today's test was well executed. Sending in teenagers under the guise of a break-in searching for drugs was a brilliant cover; it's so common, I doubt Five-O will suspect anything. Adrenaline levels were off the charts - we're going to have to adjust our instrumentation to get a more accurate reading in the future. Cortisol levels were perfectly level. No spike at all," Director Garrison was peering over the edge of his reading glasses, studying the file in front of him on the conference table.

"So the possibility of physical confrontation is not stressful to the subject," the electronically altered voice commented over the speaker phone.

"At least not when the physical confrontation is in the form of assailants that she knows she can easily overcome," Fielding answered.

Garrison made a dismissive gesture. "At the first sound of the break-in, though, even the most highly trained individuals general exhibit a cortisol spike. It could have been a SWAT team, or even WoFat, for all she knew. There was no stress response. What about the surveillance?"

"They planted the bug in the kitchen," Fielding said.

"Excellent work, gentlemen," the voice complimented. "Soon we'll be ready to move on to testing transmitting signals; set up one final test, Fielding. We need to know the subject's response to separation and threat to others."

"I'm not comfortable with this," Fielding said.

"You'll do as you're instructed; your comfort has nothing to do with it," Garrison said sharply. "Don't worry, it will be taken care of."

"See to it," the voice said, and the call ended with an abrupt click.

Garrison glared at Fielding.

"We'll never get one of the team members," Fielding said. "It's too risky and too obvious. They'll be tipped off immediately. You act as if you're dealing with civilians here; do you seriously forget how well-trained and capable McGarrett is? Joe White trained both of them, remember?"

"So grab the good doctor. The girl is attached to her, she has to be by now. You can get to her easily, at the hospital," Garrison said carelessly.

Fielding stared at him for a moment.

"Do I have to remind you what's at stake, here, Fielding? You're in no position to argue. We answer to Shelburne, and Shelburne alone on this. Did you think you would ever be able to back out? You've got blood on your hands. Do as you're told, and see this project through to the end."

"This is going to end badly for you, Garrison," Fielding said. "And for me, too. I've resigned myself to that. At this point, I hope I live just long enough to see you get what's coming to you before it's all over."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve stood in the alley behind Joe's nondescript apartment, waiting.

"Good evening, Steve," Joe said, walking down the alley quietly. "Detective Williams. Where is Riley?"

"None of your business," Danny said.

"Joe, I'm going to ask you this once more, directly," Steve said. "And so help me God, I better get a straight answer. Why did Riley's wound heal so quickly that Malia almost didn't get the stitches out safely?"

"I can't answer as to why, Steve," Joe said.

"But you know there's something . . . " Steve said.

Joe nodded. "Yes. Riley heals more quickly than any average person."

Steve had a sick feeling in his stomach. "You found that out in North Korea, didn't you, Joe? The scars . . . you weren't just training her to withstand torture, you were . . . you sick son of a bitch. Who was behind this? Is this Special Activities? What, Joe? What the hell were you doing with my sister?"

"Steve," Danny said in a low, warning, voice. They weren't completely out of earshot of passersby.

"Everything that I did, Steve, I did to try to protect you and your family," Joe said. "My methods may be incomprehensible to you; and some of my attempts failed."

"Yeah, like when you tried to protect my family by letting WoFat kidnap and torture my sister? Twice?" Steve demanded. "Did our mother know about all of this?"

"Steve, you already know the answer to that question," Joe said tiredly. "Do I have to say it out loud?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Babe," Danny said, as he wrapped the gauze around Steve's knuckles. "Now, how are you gonna explain this to Riley?"

"I don't know Danny, I just . . . "

"I know, Steve," Danny said. He rested his hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. "You're going to get through this, both of you. I'm sorry you're not getting the answers you wanted."

"I need . . . I need more than hints and suggestions, Danny. I need the whole story, beginning to end. There are so many pieces . . . I need to put it all together and make sense of it somehow," Steve said. His voice was hoarse with betrayal, with restrained emotion.

"You'll get there," Danny said. "Though God knows what you'll find when you do." He sighed and smoothed down the gauze, frowning when a bit more blood seeped through. He grabbed a second roll and started winding that around Steve's hand. "I wish you had just connected with Joe's face, you would have done less damage."

"I would have killed him, Danny," Steve explained.

"And you don't want to do that?"

"Not yet. Not until I have all of the answers I need," Steve said. His tone was flat, emotionless, and it scared the shit out of Danny.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve could hear Riley pacing downstairs. He waited a bit, until he heard the back door open. He hadn't been able to bring himself to burden her with more information after his meeting with Joe. It was too vague, too uncertain . . . too disturbing. But she seemed restless, as if she was picking up on his anxiety. Sighing, he checked the time on his phone. Three am. He pulled on a pair of gym shorts and padded down the stairs, following the sound of the back door closing.

Riley was sitting on the lanai, wrapped in an ancient quilt.

"That was dad's favorite," Steve said, kissing her on the top of the head, and sitting down in the chair next to her. "Can't sleep?"

"I've been restless all day," Riley admitted. "Maybe a little adrenaline from the break-in this afternoon. How's your hand?"

"It's fine," Steve lied. He felt guilty. He'd lied about how he hurt his hand, too. But a sparring accident with Grover was much easier than 'I found out our mother was behind all of the bad things that happened to you'. "Jerry said you were restless before that, though. Like you were . . . being watched?" he asked carefully.

She just shrugged. Unable to define or explain it to herself, she wasn't even going to attempt to explain it to Steve.

He looked down in surprise as his phone buzzed loudly.

"Chin?" he asked, confused. "Are you sure? When did her shift end? Okay, I'm on my way; I'm calling Danny and the others."

"What is it?" Riley asked.

"Malia," Steve said, stricken. "She never came home from work, and Chin can't find her."

#*#*#*#*#

They found her phone, first, and then her keys. Her car door had been unlocked, and opened, as best as they could tell. They worked in a radius outward. Chin's face was pinched and drawn, and Kono kept wiping surreptitiously at her eyes, even as she doggedly combed through the parking lot and alley for any sign of Malia.

It was Kono who caught a glimpse of the lab coat. Just the edge of it, sticking out from behind a dumpster.

"Steve," she yelled, and he knew. He knew from the tone of her voice that she'd found something. He'd never heard Kono really frightened, much less in full panic.

Chin started to run toward her, but Danny and Grover each held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Riley ran with Steve toward Kono, who was standing at the entrance to the alley. They were now seven blocks from the hospital, and the faintest light of dawn was adding a surreal hint of color to the scene. Kono stood, horrified, rooted to the spot.

"Steve," she said, "I can't - I don't -"

"Shh, Kono," Steve said, "I know. Just stay right here, okay?" He nodded at Riley, who awkwardly put her arm around Kono's shoulder. He raced into the alley and dropped to his knees behind the dumpster; they could see his familiar desert brown combat boots.

Kono held her breath until she saw Steve stand up and motion to her.

"She's okay," he yelled, his voice filled with relief. Danny and Grover released their hold on Chin, who raced, along with Kono, to join Steve. "She's okay, guys. Hey, hold still, Malia, wait until we get the medics here to check you out, okay? Hold on."

Riley stood at a distance, her arms wrapped around herself, until Danny stepped quietly beside her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, kid," he said, his blue eyes crinkling fondly. She sagged against him in relief, and seemed startled by the tears that were making their way down her cheeks. "Hey, hey," he soothed, "it's okay. She's okay; we have an ambulance on the way." He put his arm around her shoulder, and she nodded mutely, brushing away the tears, and then rubbed absently at the inside of her lower arm.

#*#*#*#*#

"He wanted a prescription pad," Malia said, wincing as her nurse, Julia, put the last of several steri-strips over a cut on her forehead. "I told him that all prescriptions were ordered electronically from the hospital, and that I didn't have one. I don't think he even meant to hurt me - he was angry, and frustrated, and strung out on something. I remember him pushing me, and I guess I hit my head on the car."

"I'm guessing the lab will confirm that it's yours," Steve said.

"He must have panicked," Chin surmised, "and wanted to buy himself some time to get away."

"He may have even thought he was taking me to get help," Malia suggested. "Whatever it was, darling, I'm fine, perfectly fine."

"No, you have a concussion and a bit of you is held together with surgical glue and bandages," Chin corrected, kissing her gently, "but you're safe now and for that I am terribly thankful."

Steve and Chin stepped out into the hallway and joined the rest of the team.

"She's okay - sounds like an addict looking to score prescription access. The CSI team will test the blood on the doorframe of the car, and test for fingerprints," Steve said.

"I've had the hospital send over the security camera footage to the lab," Danny said. "I'll pick up plenty of coffee on the way in."

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, this is somewhat disappointing," the voice said. "Cortisol and other stress hormones are extremely elevated. This means the subject lacks objectivity. Self-preservation is not a priority; yet there's an alarming, and sustained, reaction to an acquaintance being injured or threatened."

"What had you hoped to accomplish?" Fielding said, not bothering to disguise the disgust in his voice. "You could have just built a robot."

"You're out of line, Fielding," Garrison warned.

"You're going behind my back and interfering with my instructions," Fielding challenged. "I was explicit in my directions that the doctor was not to be injured in any way, and my guy agreed. You obviously gave superseding instructions."

"The doctor is fine," Garrison retorted carelessly.

"The security camera footage is telling me otherwise," Fielding argued. "But go ahead, Garrison. Give another member of Five-O a reason to personally despise you. Why not."

"Enough," the voice came over the speakerphone. "We have what we need. One more field test, transmitting a subliminal order. And then we bring the subject in."

"And what good is that going to do?" Fielding argued. "We can't continue the project. The girl is entirely too attached; her biologics are going to be completely unstable. And McGarrett will burn the island to the ground to find her. You've collected the data; you know the concept is viable. Give the data to Special Activities Division, let them use it to go on to the next project."

"Director Garrison, if you can not control your agents on this project, replace them. Good day, gentlemen."

Garrison started to speak, but Fielding cut him off. "Don't bother," he said wearily. "I'll show myself to the door."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley rubbed absently at the inside of her arm as she studied the footage from the hospital security camera, rewinding it yet again.

"Anything?" Charlie said, handing her a steaming cup of coffee.

"No," she sighed. "Hmm, thank you. There's absolutely no indication whatsoever that the footage has been tampered with or altered in any way. Digitally, it's sound copy."

"So, the crime tech's guess is as good as we're going to get?"

"Yeah. Male, average height, average build. Everything is obscured by the angle, and the dark hoodie. Please tell me you have fingerprints or something?" Riley said, sipping her coffee.

"Nothing. Blood on the frame was Malia's. Nothing else," Charlie said. "Hey, you look exhausted. Why don't you go up to Steve's office and rest?"

"I'm fine," Riley insisted. "I'm going to go over all of those pet store invoices again. We still haven't figured out where they're getting their inventory, and my money is on our poacher. I just need to get the data to line up in order to prove it."

"Okay," Charlie nodded. "You sure you don't want a more comfortable space to work? I'm afraid Steve is going to come down here and fire me on the spot if he sees this." Charlie smiled, pointing to Riley's workspace. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with her back to the corner of a small cubicle. Her laptop was on a coffee table in front of her, with papers spread around her in neat stacks.

"Sorry," she said, smiling up at him. "Growing up in Japan . . . this is normal to me."

"Ah; and asking me to move you to the back cubicle, and sitting with your back to the corner?"

"Situational awareness," she replied, ducking her head.

"Riley," Charlie said gently, "I'm not criticizing. You do brilliant work; in fact, I'm sure you're bored. I want you to be comfortable. Work on the pet store data if you want, but please, if you get tired, take a break."

Riley nodded happily and pulled up another file on her laptop.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had lost track of time; it was disorienting, having been awake since three am, and then the time at the hospital . . . Chin and Kono had stayed. Steve had ordered them to get a bit of rest, plus, he wasn't satisfied with the turn of events, and wanted Malia protected.

"I don't like it, Danny," he said, as they'd deposited Riley in the basement lab and gone upstairs. "Two punks break in to Jerry's house, looking for drugs, and then someone mugs Malia in the parking lot, looking for a prescription pad? It's too similar, too neat. I'm keeping Chin and Kono with Malia. We've got the open poaching case, but . . . "

"I'm with you, Steve," Danny had agreed, nodding. "I love animals, but we take care of the team first. And yeah, I don't like the coincidence either."

That had been . . . an hour? Two? More? Steve and Danny had both been so engrossed in double and triple checking the hospital security footage, and then fielding phone calls from concerned animals rights groups (Steve made a mental note to find out who, exactly, had leaked the poaching case to the press) that time had slipped by.

Danny stood up, back popping in protest, and was just heading to Steve's office to suggest a lunch run, when he heard the gunshot. He would have thought he was imagining it, except for the fact that Steve was barreling out of his office at full speed.

Another shot rang out.

"Basement," Steve yelled, and Danny bolted behind him, to the stairs.

It took Danny longer to reach the bottom of the stairs, because Steve, the crazy Neanderthal, didn't bother to use half of them. Danny watched in a combination of amazement and terror as Steve bolted halfway down each set of stairs, and simply vaulted over the side. Twice.

By the time Danny reached the bottom, Steve was clearing the hallway, as two lab technicians bent over Charlie.

"What happened? Who's our shooter?" Steve said, kneeling next to Charlie. He was pale and shaking, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his shoulder.

"Steve, it was Riley," Charlie said, grabbing Steve's shirt. "Riley shot me."


	15. Field Test 4

A/N: A short chapter, but another is coming right up!

"Steve, it was Riley," Charlie said, grabbing Steve's shirt. "Riley shot me."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve stared at Charlie in disbelief.

"Riley?" he asked, shaking his head in confusion. "I don't - Charlie, what the hell are you saying?"

"Steve, listen," Charlie said urgently. "She was fine; working in the cubicle she'd requested. She went over the hospital security cam footage dozens of times; I suggested she go upstairs to rest, but she said she wanted to go over those pet store invoices again. I went back to check on her a while later, and she was backed into the corner of her cubicle, holding her head."

Charlie groaned as the lab techs pressed more firmly on his wound to slow the bleeding.

"Charlie," Steve said helplessly. None of this made sense.

"I asked her what was wrong, and she looked at me . . . Steve, she was . . . in agony. I don't know how else to explain it. She fired a shot into the floor, and then . . . she just - she grabbed her head - it scared me to death, I thought she was going to . . . I thought she was pointing the gun at herself. She looked at me again, and she said, 'Charlie, you have to be dead. No matter what, you need to be dead, and stay dead, until it's safe.' Do you have any idea what she meant?"

"No, but Charlie, where is she? Where is Riley?" Steve asked, desperate.

"She's not - she didn't come upstairs?" Charlie asked.

"No, she didn't," Steve said. He looked to the lab technicians who shook their heads.

"By the time we got out here, the hallway was empty," one of them said.

"Go," Charlie urged. "Find her. Something's wrong, Steve."

Steve ran his hands through his hair, his eyes frantic. Something was nagging at him, something important.

"Charlie, what did she say to you?" Steve asked again.

"She said that I had to be dead and stay dead," Charlie repeated.

Steve and Danny looked at each other.

"Let me look at that wound," Steve said, nodding to the technicians, who moved over to give him room. He bent over Charlie again, gently removing the towel that had been wadded against his shoulder. "Look at this, Danny - that's as clean of a shot as you can ask for. Didn't hit the bone."

"She's a damn good shot, Steve . . ." Danny said, starting to catch up to Steve's thinking.

"Good enough to make a shot with as little damage as possible. She definitely didn't want him dead," Steve said. "But someone else does. Charlie, I think she shot you to try to save your life, and she was trying to say that we need to let someone think you're dead. Would you be willing to let Max treat this? Stay here, until we can figure out what's going on?"

"Yeah, as long as Max has morphine," Charlie said. "Go, go find Riley."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve scanned the parking lot footage. "There -" he said, pointing at the screen. "She hotwired my truck, Danny. North, she's headed north."

"Do we try to pick her up on traffic cams or what?" Danny said, pulling on a Kevlar vest.

"North . . . north . . . Danny, what's north? Nothing is north. Not my house, not the hospital, not Jerry's," Steve said.

"The overlook," Danny said quietly. "Steve, the overlook is north."

They raced to the parking lot and jumped into the Camaro, peeling out onto the street with a squeal of tires.

"Chin, you and Kono cover Malia," Danny said urgently into the phone. "I'll explain later . . . Charlie's been shot. Riley shot Charlie . . . no, it doesn't make sense. We think she was under some sort of duress. We are playing the angle that Charlie is dead; Max is going to take care of him, and we're going to keep him under protection at headquarters. Steve and I are going after Riley."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley tried desperately to focus on the road as her vision blurred and fractured.

The sense that she was being watched had become unbearable. She remembered that much; remembered wanting to go upstairs and ask Steve. Ask him what was going on; he would figure it out. Fix it.

Then the voice had started. Voices? No. Not voices. Ideas . . . impressions.

Charlie. Charlie needed to be dead.

"Oh, God," Riley sobbed, wiping her eyes and trying to focus on the road. Had she shot Charlie? She had. She'd tried shooting the floor instead but the pain had been unbearable. Take the clean shot, the good shot. Make the pain stop.

Charlie. Charlie needs to be alive but dead. Charlie can't die but he had to be dead.

Finally, Riley was at the overlook. She threw the truck into park and stumbled out of it. The itching, crawling sensation in her arm had become unbearable. That had to be the explanation. In the mid afternoon sun, she imagined she could see it, there under the skin.

Fracture. There was a fracture in her mind. Charlie can't die but he had to be dead.

"No," Riley shouted. "No, I won't do it." The pain, again, became unbearable, but she closed her eyes and searched for it. There. From her head . . . down . . . yes. There. Just above her wrist.

She gritted her teeth against the overwhelming sensations and with shaking hands, opened the large utility box on the back of Steve's truck. There. The diving knife. She pulled it out and sat down on the running board. She had to get it out, the watching. The pain. She had to get it out, or Charlie would be really dead, really dead, instead of being dead.

The knife was sharp. Navy SEAL sharp. She didn't even feel it, just pulled it carefully, in a neat line from her wrist toward her elbow, hoping that the tip would catch on the edge of the watching and the pain so that she could get it out. And then, she would give it to Steve. He would know what to do. But first, she was going to have to close her eyes for just a minute. Rest, for just a minute.

#*#*#*#*#

Director Garrison was frantic. He paced in the data lab, the smell of desperation rolling off him in unappealing waves. The impeccable suit and tie were rumpled; his manicured nails chewed and broken.

Agent Fielding watched in resigned amusement. This was going south so quickly he wondered if any of them would be left standing at the end of the day.

"There was supposed to be an endorphin trigger when the control was transmitted," Garrison yelled.

"There was, sir," the hapless technician tried to explain. "The subject somehow overrode it. That, and the cortisol levels were much too high."

"What about the pain feedback," Garrison demanded.

"The subject overrode that, too," the technician said. Fielding was sure there was a thread of admiration in the voice. "But only after the objective was accomplished. HPD report states that Charlie Fong's body is being held in the morgue pending an investigation and autopsy."

"So, ultimately, the control worked," Garrison said, pausing his pacing. "We just need to get a team to the location to pick her up; get her into the lab."

"It's hard to say, sir," the technician said, stammering. "The subject's biologics are erratic and we can't seem to get a fix on the location. The GPS indicates that the subject is in the middle of the northbound highway, but there's no reason for that. We're double checking the coordinates."

Another technician stood, hesitantly, from their workstation. "Sirs? We just lost biologics on the subject."

#*#*#*#*#

"There, there's your truck," Danny yelled, as they skidded around the sharp turn just before the overlook.

"I see it, Danny," Steve said, slamming the brakes as he made the turn, slinging the Camaro into place to the left of his truck. By the time he jumped out of the driver's seat and came around the front of the car, Danny was already on his knees.

"Danny, where's -" Steve broke off, horrified, as he looked down.

His mind refused to process at first: Riley, still and pale and . . . gray. On the ground, next to his knife. He couldn't grab the pieces and make them fit, until he saw the blood, seeping through Danny's hands, wrapped tightly around Riley's arm.

"Shit, Danny," he said. He didn't recognize the broken sound that came out of his mouth, reaching over Danny, grabbing the heavy red bag out of his utility box, lifting it like it was nothing, falling to his knees next to Danny. He willed his hands not to shake as he pulled out packets of QuikClot gauze, wrenching them open and Danny, bless him, Danny could always read his mind, he never had to use words with Danny, Danny grabbed the gauze with one hand and slid it under the other hand and pressed, and pressed.

"More, Steve," Danny said, teeth gritted, and took more gauze from Steve and pressed, hard.

And Steve thought maybe it was his imagination but maybe, when Danny pressed hard that last time, Riley flinched. He raised his hand to her neck, and he couldn't will away the shaking but he was steady enough to feel for a pulse.

"Steve?" Danny said, and his voice was pleading, his eyes were pleading. And Steve didn't know it, but Danny was going through every prayer that he could remember from his Sunday school days and pleading, pleading . . . not this. Not now. Not again.

"I think . . . yeah, she's got a pulse. Barely, Danny," Steve said. He slid two more gauze pads under Danny's hand, Danny lifting his hand minutely, barely, just a millimeter and then pressing down again as he watched Steve pull out a pressure bandage. The writing on the package wasn't even in English and Danny thought, fleetingly, of too many different places and too many different times Steve had done this. It was too much; too much for one person, Danny thought, and he would never again call Steve an emotionless robot.

The pressure bandage was in place and Danny finally moved his hands, wiping them absently on his pants. Steve's eyes followed, just for a moment, the movement of Danny's hands, covered in his sister's blood, and then he was shaking his head to clear it, checking her pulse again, bending his head over her face to make sure she was breathing.

Danny fumbled with his cell phone, his hands still slippery with Riley's blood. "I'm calling a bus," he said.

"No," Steve said quickly. He turned to the open door of the Camaro, reached under the passenger seat, grabbed the lever and the seat rocketed back. "We're taking her to Tripler."

Danny pocketed his phone, caught the keys mid-air that Steve threw at him. He started to move toward the driver seat, then paused, grabbed a plastic bag out of the medic kit, and wrapped it around the knife.

Steve gathered Riley in his arms and collapsed into the passenger seat, holding her against him. Her arm was cold where his hand rested against it; her cheek cold where it rested against his neck.

"Danny," he said, and it came out as a sob. He tried again. "Danny, grab the blanket off the back seat. She's cold."

Danny swallowed hard against a sudden rush of nausea and grabbed the worn blanket off the back seat of the Silverado. He spared a brief few seconds to tuck it around her, brush a shaking hand across her hair and kiss her cheek. Steve didn't chide, didn't tell him to hurry, didn't yell at him to move, dammit, and Danny decided that terrified him more than anything, that Steve was giving him those seconds. Just in case he wouldn't get them later.

And then the passenger door slammed, and then the driver door, and then Danny was driving, flying, lights and sirens, to Tripler. It was closer, yes, and it was military. Malia was at Queens, and they always went to Queens, unless it was bad. Really bad.

"Riley, honey, hold on," Steve whispered. "I've got you, Riley. Just hold on."

#*#*#*#*#

"What do you mean, she wasn't at the scene?" Garrison shrieked into the speaker phone.

Fielding smirked. Desperate was really not a good look on the director.

"They somehow got to her first, sir. The truck is there. Given the volume of blood at the scene . . . it's highly unlikely that the subject survived. Biologics are off-line. Tracking is gone. We've got nothing."


	16. Field Test 5

**_A/N: Your reviews make my day! Thank you for the inspiration. I am so, so happy to know that the characters that live inside my head connect with others. Writing is my little escape from the real world, my therapy. The positive reviews and kind comments mean more to me than you can imagine._**

 ** _Also, lest someone feel compelled (again) to comment on the "unlikely" scenario of Steve performing medical procedures: First: our military elite are highly trained in all of these procedures and Second: I'm not military, elite, or highly trained - and yet, in the past calendar year, I have collected blood samples, suctioned a patient choking to death, reset an IV alarm, bypassed incompetent nursing care and conferred directly with a surgeon whose patient was severely infected post-op - as a visitor, inside the walls of three different hospitals (one of them one of the most prestigious teaching hospitals on the east coast). So, please: if I can get away with this stuff in real life, Steve can bloody well do it in a piece of fan fiction. I was at one point apologetic for this element of the story, but I now include it without apology and will continue to do so as the muse moves me._**

 ** _Without further ado . . . back to the story . . ._**

 ** _#*#*#*#*#_**

Danny and Steve stood side by side at the sinks, scrubbing. The no-nonsense nurse had handed them two scrub brushes and a bottle of surgical handwash and shoved them into the locker room, after four burly medics had gently but insistently removed Steve from the trauma room. She glanced at them, the knees of their pants stiff with blood from kneeling at the scene, smears of it everywhere, all over their clothing, and she disappeared briefly. She returned with two simple toiletry travel kits and two sets of scrubs and towels. Army green, Danny noted, and idly wondered if Steve would be bothered. Probably not in this case.

"Rumor has it that this is common practice for you at Queens. Can't let a civilian hospital take better care of you than we would, sir," the nurse said, addressing Steve.

He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to respond to the small gesture of kindness. The nurse paused. "We'll be in Trauma 3 when you're ready."

Danny suspected that the wracked, broken coughing sound he heard from the shower stall next to his was a desperate cover for a few sobs that escaped from Steve. He barely resisted asking his best friend and partner if he was okay. He was definitely not okay.

They stepped out of the locker room and headed toward Trauma 3. Danny hated the fact that Steve knew exactly where it was. The door was ajar, and they heard the level urgency of the voices inside, over the unmistakable sound of a flatlined heart monitor.

"Hang another bag of plasma, and this time use a wider bore needle and run the damn thing wide open. Give me another shot of epi. Come on, kid, work with me here. Do not make me be the asshole that breaks Commander McGarrett's baby sister's ribs doing CPR. Come on . . . come on . . . "

Steve sagged in relief as one beep was followed by another, and then another. Danny's strong hands on his shoulders kept him on his feet. They waited, reassured by the continued, if erratic, beeping sounds coming from the room.

The doctor stepped outside the room and closed the door behind him. Steve moved as if to go past him, but the doctor's solid hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

"Commander McGarrett, you're going to want to give the nurses a few minutes, okay? I understand this is your sister, correct? Can you tell me if our situation today is part of one of your task force investigations, or not?" the doctor asked.

"It's related, yes," Steve said.

"Okay, then I'm going to let you do whatever you need to do as far as collecting evidence," the doctor said, "and of course our staff will do our best to cooperate. I need to ask, though, in order to provide the best possible care for your sister - you understand, the nature of this injury, it appeared to be self-inflicted. Do you think that's a possibility? I realize you can't have possibly had time to process the scene. I was told that you and your partner brought her in. But, best guess, what are we working with here, sir?"

"I - she -" Steve rubbed his eyes. "I didn't look at the scene at all." He looked at Danny helplessly. Danny knew about protocol, procedure, securing scenes and processing evidence. Steve barely slowed down long enough to care about such things on a good day.

"I have the knife," Danny said quietly. "We'll get someone from the lab to come get it, and get a team out to process the scene."

The doctor hesitated, then repeated his question, gently. "Sir, do you believe the injury could have been self-inflicted?"

Steve nodded miserably as Danny squeezed his shoulder. "There was an incident earlier today . . . yes. It may have been self-inflicted."

"Okay," the doctor said, nodding. "We aren't going to make any assumptions, either way, but we'll include that possibility as part of our overall plan of treatment and care. Riley is stable right now. I'm sure you heard, just a few minutes ago we did lose a pulse, but we got it back quickly with epinephrine. We're transfusing both whole blood and additional plasma, trying to get her blood volume back up so that doesn't happen again. I know you've seen enough traumatic injuries in the field . . . you don't need me to tell you how significant the blood loss was."

Steve took a shuddering breath and nodded.

"You can go sit with her now. Don't expect too much, too soon. We'll get her settled in a regular room as quickly as possible, and I'm going to assume you need it to be secure and equipped for a certain measure of communications and data. Mind you," the doctor said sternly, "I'll be following the case and I'll kick you out myself if your work is interfering with her recovery."

Steve and Danny went into the room, nodding their thanks to the nurses who were still efficiently working on Riley.

"Commander, Detective." The nurse who had set them up with clean scrubs stopped and addressed them. "Riley is resting comfortably now. Come here, it's okay."

She smiled sympathetically and gestured to Steve, pulling up a small chair for him. He started to protest.

"Schmuck," Danny muttered fondly, and pushed him into the chair. "Sit down before you fall down."

"We've given her one unit of blood, and have another going, as well as a unit of plasma. The laceration wasn't difficult to stitch up. It was very clean, and the scar should be minimal," the nurse said.

"It was my knife," Steve blurted out. "It's really sharp. Military grade." He looked up at the nurse, horrified. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know . . . "

"Commander," the nurse said gently. "You don't need to apologize. She's very mildly sedated, but now that the laceration is closed, her blood volume should go up just fine."

"Her heart stopped beating," Steve said. "And that happened before . . . recently. Really recently. How much -"

"Commander? Your sister is young and healthy. Her heart only stopped briefly. It responded to epinephrine right away. What I want you to do right now, is sit here, hold her hand, and wait for her to wake up, okay?" The nurse was kind and firm.

"I need to call - Danny, we need to call Grover, and Chin, and we need to get a team. And coordinate, we need to coordinate with Charlie," Steve said, looking at Danny. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually . . . my team, we -"

"Commander? I'm going to go get you a cup of coffee, okay?" the nurse said. "Detective Williams, I'm sure you can take care of the calls that need to be made?"

"Yeah, yeah," Danny said. He put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve? I've got this. I'll make the phone calls. I'm the one that understands protocol, remember? Just take care of Riley. Your only job right now is to be the big brother."

Danny stepped out into the hallway with the nurse. "I'm sorry; Steve is normally - he's a Navy SEAL. I've never seen him like this. Not even after his father was killed, not . . . well, not in any number of ridiculous life-threatening situations which he puts us in regularly."

The nurse smiled at Danny. "You're a good partner and a good friend, Detective Williams, and you were right: he needs to take a minute just to be a big brother. We're watching him for signs of shock, by the way. And you - how are you?"

"I'm good," Danny assured the nurse. "I'll go get these things taken care of. Thank you, really."

Danny and the nurse headed off in different directions, leaving Steve with Riley. He slumped in the chair, his long legs awkwardly stretched in front of him. Riley's uninjured hand was clasped in his, but he couldn't take his eyes off the neat bandage that extended from just inside her elbow down almost to her wrist.

"Riley," he sighed. "I hope you can explain what's going on."

The nurse returned with a steaming cup of coffee. She placed it in Steve's free hand and then proceeded to take his pulse, favoring him with a glare when he started to protest. Her expert hand smoothed over Riley's arm and forehead, and she stepped out to the hallway and returned with a warm blanket. She tucked it around Riley gently, resting her injured arm atop the blanket with exquisite care.

Riley sighed and shifted a bit.

"Riley," Steve said, leaning over her and squeezing her hand.

She struggled to open her eyes, her long lashes fluttering on her pale cheeks. Steve bent over and pressed his forehead to her hand, still clasped in his. He felt her squeeze his hand.

"Hey," he said, brushing her hair out of her face, and rubbing the back of his finger over her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open and met his. "Charlie?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes and slipping out, tracking down to the pillow beneath her head.

"Charlie is okay," Steve whispered.

RIley's eyes widened, and she raised a finger to her lips. "Don't tell," she said.

"We didn't," Steve assured her. "Charlie understood somehow . . . Max is taking care of him. Official word is that he's dead. Riley, what happened? What's going on?"

"Watching. Just watching and then telling," Riley mumbled. "Telling and I didn't want . . . but the pain, I couldn't. I tried, Steve, I tried so hard -"

"Shh, it's okay, we understand, but Riley, what do you mean? Watching? Who's watching, honey? Is this what you were telling Jerry?"

"I don't know. Did you find . . . " she pulled at the edge of her bandage impatiently, and Steve grabbed her hand and stilled it. "It was . . . telling me, and the pain, from my head, but it stopped here." She was weak and disoriented, but she pointed definitively at a spot midway between her elbow and wrist.

"Riley," Steve said slowly, "are you telling me . . . is that what you were doing with the knife? Did you think there was something in your arm? You were trying to get it out?"

Riley nodded. "I wanted to give it to you . . . did I get it? Did you find it?" She was fighting to stay coherent, to stay awake.

Steve simply shook his head. He had no idea what Riley was talking about, but he was pretty sure he knew who did.

"Riley," he said, "I have to go get some answers. Danny is going to stay with you, okay? Rest, Riley. Just close your eyes, good girl . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"Get in the car, Joe," Steve said, as Joe came outside his small garden apartment.

"Steve -"

"No. Get in the car."

"Okay, Steve," Joe said, sliding into the passenger seat.

They were just around the corner from the overlook before Steve spoke again. "I'm taking you to a crime scene. I want to show you something. And so help me God, you're going to give me everything you know, or you'll find yourself part of the scenery at the bottom."

"Is that a threat, Steve?"

"No, Joe, that is a promise. We're here. Get out." Steve got out and slipped under the crime scene tape, nodding at the technicians who stood back to give him room.

Joe stepped out and looked at Steve's truck. "What are we looking at?"

Steve shoved Joe roughly around to the driver's side of the truck. Grabbing Joe by the back of the neck, he forced his face downward. "See that? See all that blood? There was so much of it, Joe. Riley drove out here, got my diving knife out of my truck, and cut a nice, straight line from her elbow to her wrist. Do you know why she did that, Joe?"

Joe shook his head and looked up at Steve. He swallowed convulsively, and Steve was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

"Joe, she shot Charlie. Danny and I . . . we weren't sure, but we thought possibly she'd shot Charlie, thought she killed him, and came up here to . . . well, we weren't sure. But here's the thing: Clean shot, through the shoulder, didn't even hit bone. But Charlie said that she insisted that he had to be dead. You taught her to shoot, Joe. If she wanted someone dead, would she take a clean shot through the shoulder?"

Joe sagged against the truck.

"Is she alive?" Joe asked, his voice hoarse. His eyes were fixed on the blood stains, still dark on the roadside.

"She took my knife, Joe, and she opened up her arm. See all this blood here? So much of her blood spilled out, she didn't have enough to keep her heart beating, there for a minute. She was looking for something. I don't understand, because she's so disoriented, and confused, and weak from blood loss, and from her heart stopping. She's saying something about being watched, and being told, and trying to stop the pain. Said that there was something she wanted to find, and give to me to figure out." Steve stopped and leveled Joe with an intense stare. "What was she trying to find, Joe?"

Joe sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "If it's what I'm afraid it is . . . you won't believe me if I just tell you, but maybe if I can show you. Please, Steve, take me to Riley. I'll explain everything that I can. And we'll need to pick up that conspiracy theorist friend of yours, too."

#*#*#*#*#

When Riley woke up, she was in a different room, and Danny was sitting next to her, looking out the window.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Danny," Riley said quietly, and Danny jumped. He'd dozed off to sleep, somehow, in the impossibly uncomfortable chair. He missed Queens, with its recliners.

"Sorry," she said again, giving him the lopsided smile that always reminded him so much of Steve.

"I am going to name my new ulcer Riley," Danny said, but his voice was soft and fond, and his hand was gentle on hers. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"I'm thirsty."

Danny stepped out into the hallway and returned with a cup of ice chips. She accepted a spoonful gratefully, glancing around her new surroundings.

"They moved me?"

"Yeah, you're in a regular room. No more trauma," Danny said, giving her more ice.

"Where's Steve?"

"I'm not entirely sure. He stormed out of here in alpha mode. I've been making phone calls and hanging out with you," Danny said, smoothing the blanket around her.

"Charlie?" she asked.

"Is going to be absolutely fine," Danny assured her. "We're just waiting to get all of this sorted out to move him to a hospital. He's in good hands, Riley. Max may be a little odd but he's very competent.

"Malia?"

"Also will be just fine. She's gone with Chin and Kono back to headquarters. Until we know what's happening, we're going to keep everyone safe," Danny said. He looked down as his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. "In fact, Steve is picking up Jerry, too, and he's on his way here."

Riley sagged into her pillows in relief, a tear running from the corner of her eye to drop into the fabric below.

"Hey, hey," Danny soothed, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I never cried before," Riley complained, "I blame you, Williams."

Danny chuckled. "I can live with that. What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"People are getting hurt because of me, Danny. I never should have come here. I should go back . . . maybe to the monks. Or back to Tokyo. I'm smart, Danny, I could just disappear, blend in, and then no one would have to get hurt."

Danny hesitated for a long moment. "Riley, is that why you -" he indicated the bandage on her arm.

She shook her head as more tears forced their way down her cheeks. "No, Danny, but I wish you hadn't found me after I did."

#*#*#*#*#

"McGarrett and Joe White just stopped at the computer geek's house and picked him up," Fielding said, throwing a file on the table in front of Garrison. It probably made a terrible sound on the other end of that blasted speaker phone. He hoped it hurt their ears, whoever was on the other side.

There was a long pause as Garrison stared at the phone.

"Well, gentlemen, the answer is clear then," the altered voice said. For the first time, Fielding thought he could detect a hint of emotion in the digital sound. "Joe White has made his choice. His loyalty is clearly with the subject and with McGarrett; not with the project itself."

"We don't know that for certain," Garrison said. "He could still be playing an angle, working from the inside."

"No," the voice said, with a tone of resigned finality, evident even through the alteration. "Joe White has always harbored a sentimentality for the subject. Make no mistake, gentlemen, his loyalties are not with the project."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had a moment of sheer panic when he found Trauma 3 empty; bloody bandages and sheets strewn on the floor, empty IV bags hanging from a pole, and no one in sight.

"Commander," the familiar nurse said, smiling at him kindly, "please pardon the mess. Detective Williams is having a team come over to collect everything from this room for processing. Your sister has been taken to the secure room on the third floor. Take a left off the elevator. You'll have to show your credentials to get through the set of double doors. Detective Williams went up with her."

Steve nodded in relief, and headed for the elevators, jerking his head to indicate the others to follow him. After a tensely silent ride to the third floor, Steve shared his credentials with the uniformed officer at the desk, and vouched for Joe and Jerry. A soft buzz released the double doors, and they stepped through into the short, quiet hallway.

"Danny?" Steve said in alarm, stepping to his friend's side. Danny was leaning against the hallway, his shoulders shaking slightly, his hands over his face. His mind racing with worst case scenarios, Steve put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Danny, what's wrong? Where's Riley?"

Danny looked up at Steve. "She wishes we hadn't found her, Steve. That's what she said. That she wishes we hadn't found her."

Joe stepped into Danny's line of vision, and before Steve could even react, Danny lashed out with a vicious uppercut and sent Joe staggering. As Steve grabbed Danny by the arms, he noticed that Joe had not made a move to defend himself.

"Danny," Steve said, but Joe cut him off.

"Leave him, Steve," Joe said. "I deserved that."

Jerry watched the entire exchange with wide eyes. "Um, guys?" he said, hesitantly. "Where's Riley?"

"The nurses are -" Danny paused, and cleared his throat, and tried again. "The nurses were getting rid of the rest of her bloody clothing, and getting her cleaned up. I, ah, had the lab bring over evidence bags so that everything can be processed."

At that moment, the nurses stepped out of the room. One of them smiled at Danny and handed him a neat stack of clear evidence bags. Danny signed the form and thanked her. He stared at the evidence bag containing Riley's bloody clothes, and then shoved it toward Joe.

"Do you see this? Are you satisfied, Joe? Is this what you hoped to accomplish? I didn't know, Joe, when I felt her blood stop slipping through my fingers, if it was because Steve's blasted combat gauze had worked, or if because there just wasn't any more blood left." Steve looked on in stunned silence as Danny took a shuddering breath. "Damn you, Joe," he added quietly. "Damn you and the government agency you rode in on."

"I know it may seem hard to believe, but this is exactly what I tried to prevent," Joe said.

"We're waiting to hear you explain this," Steve said, folding his arms across his chest.

"And I will," Joe said. "But Riley deserves to hear it from me. If I couldn't protect her, the least I can do is face her when I tell her the truth." He hesitated, looking at Steve. "And I'll spare you having to be the one to tell her, son."

"Why is Jerry here?" Danny asked Steve, as they filed into Riley's room.

"Joe said he needed someone here who would find what he had to say . . . believable," Steve answered. He stepped over to Riley's bed, bending and kissing her on the forehead. "Hey, kid," he said, smiling down at her. "You look better. You okay?"

"I'm good . . . but confused. Why is Joe here? And Jerry?"

"Joe's going to explain some things to us, and then apparently Jerry is going to convince us that Joe's not full of shit," Steve said, looking skeptically at Joe.

Joe leaned against the wall. "I had hoped to somehow spare you some of this . . . but I can see now that I can't. About forty years ago, Doris was an up-and-coming CIA agent, codenamed Shelburne. As you know, the CIA often uses . . . indirect means to arm and supply certain factions. Factions whose success aligns with the goals of the United States. Doris helped . . . facilitate some of those transactions. It was during this part of her career that her path intersected with WoFat's family. As you know, she was involved in the death of WoFat's father; her guilt prompted her to raise WoFat for a while."

"Until the CIA stepped in and made her stop," Steve said. "Around the time she met my father."

"Which was around the time I was recruited by Special Activities, and assigned to monitor your mother's activity, and keep an eye out for your family's safety," Joe said. "Over the next fifteen years, the CIA kept an eye on your mother, even as an inactive agent. She was gifted - so she stayed on their radar. As WoFat grew, he became obsessed with finding the person responsible for his father's death. There was a point of intersection: WoFat was close to identifying Shelburne, and Special Activities Division wanted your mother back for a classified project."

"Protection in exchange for participation?" Danny asked.

Joe hesitated. "At first, yes. For years, I was convinced that everything your mother had done - fabricating her death, going into hiding - was to protect your father, Mary, and you, Steve - and I believed her when she told me that she had no idea she was expecting a baby when she left the island and headed to Tokyo."

"What changed your mind?" Steve asked.

"Special Activities asked me as many questions about Riley as they did about Doris. The older Riley got, the more questions they asked. Until one day, I was told that WoFat was too close to Doris again; that she had to go underground, that it was too dangerous to take Riley with her. I was supposed to hide Riley, keep her safe. But then, I was given a set of directions. Tasks to carry out, tests to complete," Joe continued.

"The training you did with Riley in North Korea," Danny supplied.

"North Korea was the first field test," Joe said.

"You son of a bitch," Steve breathed. "Who gave you the orders? CIA? Special Activities? I know it sure as hell wasn't the Navy."

Joe was silent. He looked at Steve, and the unfathomable sadness in his eyes told the truth before he said it aloud.

"Shelburne."

"Doris. Our mother," Steve said, his voice flat. "She not only knew . . . "

"By this time, Shelburne was more than the codename of an operative. Shelburne had become the codename of a project. I didn't know it, not when I picked Riley up in Tokyo. Not when she was sixteen," Joe said, his voice suddenly old, and tired. "But as time went on in North Korea, I started to suspect . . ." Joe turned and looked at Riley, and Steve knew that the fondness on his face couldn't possibly be forced, or faked. "Riley . . . you were so much like your brother. So fast, so sharp. Every new thing I went to teach you . . . just once. I would show you once, and it was like . . . osmosis. There were times I felt like I only had to think it, and you understood."

Riley ducked her head. "You never said . . . I never thought I was doing a good job."

"Because at that point I only knew that if WoFat ever discovered you, he would be ruthless. I wanted to believe that my job was to teach you to protect yourself. And then . . . I started to suspect that there was a bigger plan. That there was something bigger. You were too strong, too fast . . . when you could do things at sixteen, barely a hundred pounds, that your brother could do in BUDs . . ." Joe stopped. "When the -" he had to stop again, clear his throat. "When the cigarette burns healed so quickly . . . I started to suspect."

"Suspect what, Joe?" Steve asked. He was gripping the back of the plastic chair so tightly that Danny wondered which was going to give first - the chair, or the skin over Steve's knuckles.

"Genetic tampering," Jerry said. "They fucked with her DNA. Sorry. Holy shit. Sorry."

"Is that even possible?" Danny asked.

"It is. It has been. For a long time, but no one . . . holy shit," Jerry said.

Riley stared at Joe in disbelief, her fingers absently rubbing the edge of the bandage on her arm.

"I carried out the orders," Joe said. "God help me, I did everything that Shelburne asked of me, until there was an order to go on to a second phase of the program. I couldn't . . . I couldn't go on any longer. Hideki Mokoto had an out for me. I thought . . . I thought I could get Riley out. Out of the program."

"Why couldn't you go through with it, Joe? What stopped you?" Steve asked quietly.

Joe laughed gently and looked at Riley. "It was your damn eyes, Riley. Your brother's eyes. Your father's eyes. I had promised him . . . before I knew, before I suspected. When it came down to it . . . I couldn't betray your father." He turned and looked at Steve. "You, Steve. After everything we'd been through together, starting in BUDs . . . I couldn't go on any longer, not with your eyes looking at me. So I tried to slip Riley out of the program."

"Second phase," Danny said. "You said something about a second phase."

Joe nodded. "Collection of data. Biochemistry, gamma and beta waves. Response to stimuli."

"Stimuli," Steve ground out, in a low, dangerous voice.

"Measurable, quantifiable data," Jerry breathed out. "Holy shit."

"Yes. I couldn't do it. After WoFat took Riley . . . I tried to improvise, I tried to get one step ahead of him, stay one step ahead of Shelburne. I tried to play him against the Special Activities Division; thought that if I could get Riley to create an airtight backhistory implicating John McGarrett as Shelburne, then WoFat would move on," Joe said. "And then . . . I thought that I could convince your mother to help me get Riley out of the program. I thought there might be some . . . sentimentality."

"You thought you could appeal to Doris' maternal instincts?" Danny spat.

"I had hoped," Joe said. He looked at Riley and Steve. "This, more than WoFat, more than the Special Activities Division . . . this is what I wanted to protect you from. This is what I was trying to keep from you."

"She wouldn't help you," Steve said. "She refused to help you get Riley out." He rested his hip on the edge of Riley's bed, his knees suddenly unable to support his weight.

"Yes. And that's the real reason I was disavowed. I refused to continue to participate," Joe said.

"Fielding . . . " Steve said . . . "He's part of . . . "

"Yes. Part of Shelburne. The project. And that's all I know for certain. He contacted me once - to tell me that if I could deliver Riley to them, they would let me back into the fold. The rest . . . I have speculation. Suspicion. But nothing definite," Joe said.

"Phase Two," Jerry said. "They moved on to Phase Two."

"My guess is that WoFat planted the device," Joe said slowly, watching Riley carefully for a response.

"Device?" Riley said quietly.

"To collect the data," Jerry said. "Joe, was there going to be a Phase Three?"

"Yes. Implementation of subliminal instruction," Joe said, looking at Jerry.

"Imple - what?" Danny demanded.

"Holy shit," Jerry said. "Mind control. Subliminal suggestion. They forced Riley to shoot Charlie."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Jerry and Joe; silent in varying measures of disbelief. Steve had instinctively angled himself protectively between Riley and Joe, trying in some way to shield her from the horror of what he was saying. So it was Danny who noticed first.

"Riley! No, honey," Danny shouted, and moved toward the bed.

Steve turned and looked down at Riley, at the blood once again pouring freely from her arm. The bandage had been tossed aside, the stitches torn. Riley was digging with frantic fingers into the open wound, a desperate sound wrenching from her throat.

"Make sure it's gone, get it out, I want it out," she pleaded. "I know this is where it was, it was watching me, I tried not to shoot Charlie but it hurt, it hurt too much and I could feel it, it broke my mind, and I followed it, and it was right here . . . where is it?"

Danny was in the hall, yelling for a doctor. Joe had stepped forward, his hands wrapping securely around her bloody arm, while Steve grabbed her hands and tried to calm her down.

"Riley," he said, "Riley -" but it was taking almost all of his strength to just keep her on the narrow bed, and he couldn't restrain her hands and get her attention at the same time. She arched her back and managed to get a solid kick to Joe's ribs, knocking him back against the wall. Now Steve was frantically trying to apply pressure to her arm.

Jerry wrapped his arms gently around Riley's upper body, pinning her arms to her side. "Riley," he said very softly into her ear. "Stop and close your eyes. You could feel it before. Can you feel it now? Look for it like you did before . . . see if you can follow it."

Riley stilled and closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. Steve looked at Jerry in amazement.

"Let's think through the problem, Riley," Jerry continued, still speaking softly. "The cut on your arm looks really, really deep. I think if there was something in your arm, they would have noticed it when they stitched you up. Right? Does that make sense?"

Riley sat perfectly still. Steve was reminded of how she sat that day on the hiking trail; he knew she was trying desperately to regain control of her emotions.

"Where is it, Riley?" Jerry whispered. Bless him - of all the people, he would be the one to know exactly what to do in this crazy situation. He stroked her hair gently and waited patiently.

Riley's eyes flew open and she sat straight up, so suddenly that Jerry and Steve both jumped.

"It's not there," she whispered, her eyes wild and frantic. "But it's not gone, either. Shoot me, Steve," she pleaded. "Please, God, just shoot me, I can't get rid of it, please, before I hurt someone . . ."

She fell apart into hysterical sobs as Steve held her, pounding her fists against him. A doctor came into the room, syringe in hand, and moved toward Riley.

"No!" Riley shouted. "No more." She had backed into the corner of the room.

Steve stood between Riley and the rest of the people in the room. "Everyone, out, now," he said. "Now!" he barked, when no one moved.

Everyone backed carefully out of the room. "You're going to get through this, I promise you," Danny said quietly, just before he closed the door.

Riley had slid down the corner wall of the room, and was huddled on the floor, still probing her mangled arm. Steve approached her cautiously, crouching in front of her.

"He can't promise that," she said absently, not looking at Steve. Blood was dripping at an alarming rate onto the floor.

"Actually," Steve said conversationally, "Danny's promises are remarkably accurate. He doesn't make them lightly. I'm inclined to believe him." He approached her carefully, not wanting to spook her.

"Our mother is a monster," Riley said. "I was a science project. How do we get through that?"

Steve felt a cold chill go up his spine at the both the words, and the low, emotionless tone. He thought of her saying that her mind had been broken and he had the singularly horrifying thought that maybe it was too much - that no matter how strong she was, that this would break her and he would be left -

"Don't leave me, Riley," he said, his voice breaking in a sob. "Stay with me. Please."

She looked up at that, met his eyes. "Why would you want me?" she whispered. "I'm broken."

Steve cupped her face in his hand. "I am, too," he whispered.

She put her head down on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Steve gently lifted her injured arm, pressing the heel of his hand against the newly opened cut to stem the bleeding, and put his other arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close, resting his head on hers, and held her until the worst of the shaking subsided.

Finally, she lifted her head, and looked down at her arm, still clutched in his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't realize I was . . . I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey," he soothed, brushing her hair away from his face with his other hand. "It's okay. We're going to get this bleeding stopped, and get you fixed up, and then we're going to figure this out. Okay? I'm going to get Danny to come in and help me get you settled, is that alright? Just Danny."

She nodded, and Steve turned toward the door and called for Danny. He didn't have to question, or wonder; he knew, with absolute certainty, that Danny would be right there. The door opened immediately, and Danny looked in.

"Hey, babe, right here," he said, coming in quietly and closing the door behind him. He pulled a small evidence bag out of his pocket, and held it out to Steve and Riley as he crouched on the floor in front of them.

"Our scene techs retrieved this from the trauma room downstairs," he said. "One of the nurses found it when they were cleaning out your arm, and she set it aside. Jerry has some theories, of course."

"It's too simple," Riley whispered. "There's still something . . ."

Danny nodded. "Jerry thinks this was a . . . delivery system. But, it means there's no reason not to fix up your arm, okay?"

"Danny, can you take care of that?" Steve asked, nodding toward the bed.

Danny tossed the blood soaked blanket and sheets in the red hamper in the corner of the room, and grabbed a clean sheet out of the tidy cabinet next to the sink. He expertly spread it and tucked it around the thin mattress, as Steve pulled Riley gently to her feet.

"Okay, kid, first things first," he said, getting her deposited safely back onto the bed. He propped her arm on a pillow, and slowly and carefully let go of it. He looked at her arm in dismay. "I think all of these stitches are going to have to come out," he said. "Can we call the doctor to come in and take care of it?"

Riley shook her head, as tears filled her eyes again. "I don't know him," she said. Her tone bordered on petulant, and Steve had to smother a smile. The way he saw it, she was entitled to a bit of petulance at this point. "I don't know if I can trust -" she broke off, her voice hitching.

"Shh, Riley, I'll do it," Steve said.

Danny shook his head. "Field sutures? Really," he teased gently, pulling up the rolling stool and suture tray left by the nurse.

Steve scrubbed his hands and pulled on gloves, then sat down and bent his head over Riley's arm. As Steve began the painstaking work of carefully cutting and removing each of the mangled stitches, Danny sat down on the edge of Riley's bed. He reached over and tore off a piece of gauze bandaging and set it aside, then gathered Riley's wavy hair in his hands, gently running his fingers through it to remove the tangles.

"You know, I think once you're all healed up, you and Steve should plan a vacation," he said. He sectioned her hair off, and started braiding it. "What do you like to do, for vacation, Riley?"

"I've never had a vacation," she said thoughtfully. Danny's hands felt good in her hair.

"Okay, close your eyes," Danny instructed. "When all of this is behind you - and it will be, Riley, I swear - think of somewhere that makes you happy, somewhere you feel safe, and peaceful. Can you think of it?"

Riley nodded. "The monastery," she said.

"The monastery," Danny repeated. "Steve said it was beautiful. Tell me about it. What's your favorite thing about the monastery?"

"Sparring with the monks," Riley said immediately.

"Only a McGarrett would be able to find a good fight at a monastery," Danny said. As he spoke, he turned her hair over, and over, and over again in his deft fingers. "What else about it do you like?"

"It's quiet," Riley said. "And it's very cool."

"Hmm, yeah, cool is in short supply around here," Danny said. "I can see the appeal." He finished off the braid and picked up the piece of gauze, wrapping it several times around her hair and tying it off in a neat bow. "Hey, look at that - Steve's actually pretty good at this. All the messed up stitches are out."

Riley opened her eyes and looked at her arm. "You're sure there's nothing in there?" she asked quietly.

"I can't see or feel anything," Steve said. "I checked. Let's call the doctor in to come replace the stitches."

Once again, Riley shook her head, a stubborn expression coming over her face.

"Riley," Steve said, starting to argue with her. But she looked up at him, eyes pleading, and he sighed. "Okay. Can I at least ask the nurse to bring us a local?"

"Just do it," Riley said, her tone determined. "They want readings? Let's give them readings."

"You think . . . " Danny said.

Riley nodded. "Yeah. I can't explain it, but . . . yes."

"Riley, you don't have anything to prove," Steve said gently.

He and Danny watched in amazement as she squared her shoulders and pulled her legs up underneath her, assuming the lotus position that she'd used that day on the hiking trail. She lifted her eyes to Steve, and the fear and confusion were gone, replaced with a fiery determination.

"Don't I? I want to talk to Jerry," she said.

Danny stepped to the door and came back in with Jerry, who enveloped Riley in a huge, gentle bear hug, while Danny and Steve exchanged fond glances.

"Jerry," Riley said, "I think they tried to make me kill Charlie."

Jerry nodded. "I think that would have been their third phase; it's all theoretical, but the science is sound, and there have been rumors."

"But I didn't kill Charlie," Riley said. "Is that because the science is bad, or because I managed to get around it?"

"I don't know," Jerry said. "What do you remember? What happened?"

Riley closed her eyes and rested her hands on her knees, palms up. "I remember feeling watched, all that day. Remember Jerry? At your house? In the lab . . . I was working. On the pet store invoices. I remember hearing . . . no - not hearing. Feeling. Feeling convinced that Charlie had to be eliminated. I didn't understand. When he came in my office, I pulled out my Glock . . . "

"I told you Steve would be mad at you for carrying a gun," Jerry said. "It wasn't my idea," he added, looking at Steve.

"But I didn't want Charlie to be hurt. I didn't understand why anyone, least of all me, would want to hurt Charlie. I really . . . I really like Charlie," she said, almost in surprise, as she opened her eyes and looked at Steve.

"We all like Charlie," Steve said, smiling. "What else do you remember?"

"Pain," she said, taking a shuddering breath and closing her eyes. "I shot at the floor, for some reason, I thought if I could just take a shot, it would make the pain go away. But it didn't, it got worse." She opened her eyes again. "I thought I would die. I wanted to die. But I didn't want to hurt Charlie. So, I took the clean shot and then I ran, so I could get away before . . ."

Jerry looked at her, his eyes wide in amazement. "You outsmarted it. Do you think . . . if they try again, do you think you'll recognize it?"

"Yes," Riley said emphatically. "I'll at least recognize it in time to warn you." She looked at Steve, her eyes flashing. "And you have to promise me: promise me you'll take me out, don't let me hurt anyone."

"Riley, I -"

"Promise," she demanded. "Worst case scenario, just promise."

"Okay, Riley," Steve said. He knew a million ways to temporarily disable someone, if it came down to it.

"Now," she said, holding her arm out to him. "Fix this up. They're measuring stimuli? Let's give them stimuli."

"Riley, are you -" Danny started.

She looked up at them and smiled. "Shelburne has no idea who they're messing with. Bring it."

#*#*#*#*#

Garrison studied the latest sets of data.

"Well, the loss of data stream was temporary. The program is now fully and seamlessly integrated with her central nervous system. The next test should be much more successful," he said smugly.

Fielding looked at him in complete disbelief. "The next test. The next test? You can't be serious. You're going to continue the program? She's at Tripler. With McGarrett. And Joe White. They've put the pieces together by now."

Garrison didn't respond; he sat, mesmerized, in front of the monitor that displayed a constant stream of information. "Look," he said softly, as if Fielding wasn't even in the room, "look at that . . . pain receptors are spiking . . . beta waves are high . . . what are you up to, my little one?"

"You're mad . . ." Fielding said. "You're absolutely stark raving crazy."

#*#*#*#*#

They had to send Jerry out of the room while Steve sewed up Riley's arm.

"I can't pick you up off the floor, big guy," Danny said kindly, "so go wait in the hall."

"When we're done here," Riley said, wincing as Steve placed a stitch, "we need to get set up someplace secure. If someone is collecting data from me, there has to be a way to trace it. To a physical location. We find them, demand answers. Force them to undo whatever it is they've done."

Steve looked at her, something nudging at the back of his mind. Fielding . . .

"Fielding bugged our computers," Steve said. "Is there any way . . ."

"I can trace it back. We'll have to move fast, though. Special Activities told Five-O to stand down, right? We start this, the shit is going to hit the fan. You could lose your jobs," Riley said seriously. "We need a contingency plan, a fail-safe."

"Jerry. Jerry takes the whole story to the media," Danny said.

"It's crazy," Steve said, but he was starting to grin. Danny was mildly concerned; he usually got shot at when he saw that grin.

Riley's grin matched Steve's. "My days as a lab rat are over," she said. She looked at Steve, her eyes earnest. "You don't have to be involved. You'd be going up against Special Activities, against . . . against your own mother. You can turn me loose. I can handle this alone."

"Riley. Your days of handling things alone are over. We do this, and we do it together."

"Okay then," Danny said, rubbing his hands together. "So, Five-O is going to try to take down a government agency, unravel a highly classified project, and do it without getting us killed or fired. By enlisting the help of a conspiracy theorist and a retired Navy SEAL who is also a disavowed CIA agent. What could go wrong?"


	17. Classified 1

"Absolutely out of the question," Danny ranted. "No way. No way in hell."

Steve clenched his hands tighter around the steering wheel as they sped from Tripler to the palace. "Danny. Listen to reason. You . . . you can't be involved in this. You can't. You have Gracie to think of. "

"Chin and Kono will agree with me," Danny insisted. "We aren't letting you after these people alone. Do you not remember we just pulled you out of North Korea? We barely got you back, Steven."

"Chin and Kono have family and careers to think of, too," Riley said quietly, leaning from the back seat.

"Plausible deniability," Danny said, incredulous. "You want us to have plausible deniability while . . . "

"While we go look for some answers," Steve said gently. "That's all we're doing here, Danny. We're not . . . storming the castle, or whatever."

It was wrong. Steve wasn't supposed to be gentle. He was supposed to be loud, obnoxious, all of the things that irritated and infuriated Danny on a regular basis. He was not supposed to be gentle, kind, like he was preparing for -

"A suicide mission," Danny blurted out.

"What? No," Steve insisted. They pulled up in front of the palace and Steve parked. "Recon, Danny. Just recon."

They stepped off the elevator with Danny and Steve still arguing.

"And what, pray tell, are the rest of us supposed to do?" Danny yelled, hands waving.

Steve paused for a moment. "Find the damn poachers," he finally said, pointing at the computer console triumphantly.

#*#*#*#*#*#

Garrison sat in front of the computer monitors. He was starting to look . . . deranged.

"We're still getting impeccable readings," he mumbled. "It worked; it's fully integrated with her central nervous system. She's ours now."

Fielding stood at the back of the room, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Her cortisol levels are very high . . . pain receptors are being actively suppressed . . . good girl, that's my good girl . . . Let's move. We don't need a monitoring system so close now; we can move on to the next phase," Garrison said. He shut down the computer and picked up a stack of files.

"This is insane. I will not be part of this any more," Fielding said, turning angrily to leave the room.

"I thought as much," Garrison said, sighing. He turned casually and fired off three shots at Fielding's retreating form, then turned back and fired into the computer equipment until it was a smoking pile of rubble.

Stepping over Fielding's body, Garrison locked the door behind him and headed up the staircase to the helicopter waiting on the rooftop.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve, Riley, Jerry, and Joe left the palace and headed for Jerry's house. It was a silent drive; Steve and Joe were on high alert, scanning for any possible tails. Riley was cradling her arm a bit, and Steve suspected she was actively and deliberately tuning out the pain. He could do that, himself, to a point, but the tilt of her head and the calculating look in her eye was distinctive, and if he were honest, a little unsettling. Jerry was just sitting in stunned disbelief. The events of the day had been a bit much, even for him.

Joe and Steve exchanged a nod and a head tilt as they walked up Jerry's driveway, and Joe disappeared into the light shrubbery surrounding Jerry's house. Steve continued with Riley and Jerry into the house, where he proceeded to check every possible entrance and exit point of the house, while Riley and Jerry settled in the basement in front of the computers.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Jerry whispered. "Hey, do you need something for your arm? Like, I don't know, a cushion or something to rest it on?"

Riley shook her head. She had effectively compartmentalized the pain and was completely focused on the keyboard in front of her; fingers flying over the keys and eyes scanning between three monitors.

"Jerry, we need to see if there's any way we can detect a frequency from this . . . transmission," Riley said. She glanced to be sure Steve was out of earshot. "And you're one hundred percent sure that our transmitter is completely off?"

"One hundred and ten percent," Jerry said emphatically, "but I still think you need to tell Steve."

Riley shook her head. "No. Jerry. If he knew, and if somehow he gave that information up to the wrong person, and if WoFat used that to find me . . . Steve would never forgive himself."

"But he's a Navy SEAL. And you're his sister. He would never -"

"He's only human. And he has more attachments than he realizes. There are too many things that could be used against him as leverage. And Jerry, look - don't you sweat it, okay? Don't do anything to protect me. You do what you need to do to protect yourself. Let me and Steve worry about me. Got it?" Riley said, looking intently at Jerry. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Jerry?"

"You're saying you expect me to give you up," Jerry said. "I think I'm insulted. And terrified."

Riley laughed. "If I'm as good as I think I am, no one will ever connect you to us, okay? So you shouldn't have to worry about it. Besides, if someone threatens you, my brother will kick their ass. Now, we have to find out how this data is being transmitted."

Steve had finished his search of the house. "You're sure, Riley? I'm not doubting you . . . it's just . . . you're sure?"

"Yeah. I don't know how to explain it. I just know. At first, it was a completely vague sensation; and then, when I concentrated, I felt like I could follow - I know that sounds crazy, but I felt like I could follow it, if I tried, so I concentrated and felt like there was something, in my arm. That's why I - I thought I could get it out. You have it with you, right? The thing the nurses found?" Riley asked, rubbing her arm absently.

"It's here," Steve said, pulling the evidence bag out of one of his many pockets. "I wish we could take it to a proper lab, but . . . "

"No way," Jerry protested. "People in black suits would come and we'd never see or hear from either of you again."

"That used to sound far-fetched," Steve commented.

"I've been telling you for years . . . " Jerry mumbled, as he wheeled over a small table which was outfitted with a powerful magnifying glass. "It looks like a hollow cylinder. Definitely small enough to be implanted with a needle. Not microscopic, but definitely small enough that it was probably inserted with a needle."

"When we found you, Riley, when WoFat . . . there were needles and IVs all around you. What do you remember?" Steve asked.

"I remember he shot me up a couple of times, before he set up the IV. It all blurs together, though, I'm sorry," Riley said, pressing her hands to her eyes. Trying to remember her time with WoFat was making her head hurt.

"Riley, are you hurting?" Steve asked, alarmed.

"Just a little headache," she mumbled, trying to wave him off. He had a penlight out, trying to flash it into her eyes. "And seriously, what do you think you're accomplishing, here? Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Well, no, not exactly," he said, smiling apologetically. "But, you said, when you tried to fight back against shooting Charlie, that you remembered pain. I was just . . . "

"Worried that I was going to flip out and murder you and Jerry," Riley said flatly. "Oh my God, this is terrible. Jerry, forget the implant or whatever, let's focus on backtracing the bug that Fielding put on the Five-O computers, and see if we can somehow match that with . . . I don't know. Match it, triangulate it, something." Riley scrubbed her hand over her face, and Jerry smiled, because it looked so much like Steve.

"You can do that from here?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, I've got full access to the Five-O mainframe," Riley said.

"That happened after she got here," Jerry supplied helpfully. "Not before. She did it. Not me. I told you, she's good."

"What I'm doing can't be traced to Jerry, or to Five-O," Riley said, her fingers going back to the keyboard.

"Where can it be traced to, Riley?" Steve asked. She was silent. "Come on, Riley, I was Naval Intelligence. Ultimately, it can be traced somewhere. Tell me where."

"Hashima Island."

Steve was speechless for a moment. "You're kidding me. The abandoned island . . . we had exercises there once."

"Hidden in plain sight. It's protected by the Japanese government, now open to tourists. In one of the abandoned housing complexes, in a closet. There's a server," Riley said. "And please, that's all you need to know. If someone, somehow, manages to pick up my trail, it will lead them to an empty apartment on an abandoned island. And the Japanese government will have to grant them access and we know how long that will take."

Steve shook his head. "Well, okay then, have at it."

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, shit," Riley said quietly, staring at the screen in disbelief. It had only been about fifteen minutes. Granted, she was fast - very fast - but this was almost too easy. "Steve, I traced the bug on the Five-O mainframe back to a physical location."

"That's fantastic," Steve said. "Wait, you don't look like someone who just did something fantastic. What's wrong?"

"Is that -" Jerry peered at the screen.

"You're kidding me," Steve said. "The cannery? Where WoFat . . . they set up shop right after him. Unbelievable."

"I guess they didn't think we would look there," Riley said, shrugging. She turned to Jerry. "Any luck? Have you found anything at all that might be able to detect the frequency of . . . well, of me?"

Jerry shook his head. "It's not cellular, it's not bluetooth. I can tell you that much. I'm at a loss. There's theory . . . "

"Which is?" Riley prompted.

"Acoustic wave technology."

She looked at him blankly and blinked a few times, then shook her head. "I can't wrap my brain around that right now."

Steve nodded. "One thing at a time. I'll take Joe and go check out the cannery."

"Without me?" Riley demanded, standing up. "Like hell."

"Riley," Steve said, in that unmistakable, universal, exasperated-older-brother voice. "Absolutely not." He crossed his arms, confident that he'd had the last word. He was older, stronger, and wiser; a Navy SEAL and leader of an elite task force, for crying out loud.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley sat quietly in the back seat of the Silverado. When Steve's eye met hers in the rear view mirror, he tried for a stern expression, but only managed fond.

Joe had stopped Steve as they loaded gear into the tool box on the back of the truck. "You have a soft spot for her," he'd said, frowning. "It could cloud your judgment."

Steve had looked at him, impassive, his eyes unreadable. "Well, apparently we have a soft spot for you, Joe. And maybe it has clouded our judgment."

Danny's ringtone pulled Steve's thoughts back. "Yeah, Danny," he said. "Do you have a lead on the poachers?"

"Well, Steve, here's the thing. This poaching case: it's tricky. Lots of conflicting information. What Chin, Kono, and I were thinking, is how there are going to be some false leads. It happens with a case this widespread. But, you know, we need to follow up on every lead. All of them. Even the ones that don't end up being connected to the case." Danny paused. "For example, there could be a lead, right now, as we speak, that we should follow up on. Because it sounds to me like you're heading somewhere, off duty, so probably we should be heading somewhere, too, on our case. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Steve shook his head, even as he smiled. "Danny, I think . . . with Kono looking for a promotion, you know, for the sake of her career . . . probably you should focus on the leads that seem more productive. But thanks, man. I appreciate the thoroughness of the team. The willingness of the team."

"Well, it just seems to me that our newest hire, Riley, was working on this poaching case right before that unfortunate misfire. I'm thinking, there's possibly something on her laptop. An address or something, that she hadn't had time to forward to the rest of the team. And we should probably go look for that right now," Danny said, "and then head over to check it out."

Steve hesitated. He really didn't want to involve the rest of the team, but Danny was always yelling at him about backup.

"Okay, Danny," he said, choosing his words very carefully. "I think, yeah, go look and see if Riley left any leads on her laptop. And go ahead and check out any addresses she left, but keep a distance. We don't want to tip off the poachers. I'm sure if there's any activity that you need to be concerned about, you'll realize it and use your best judgment."

Steve looked in the rearview mirror as Riley held up a finger in acknowledgement. "Done," she said, slipping her tablet back into her backpack.

"Your team takes unreasonable risks, for civilians," Joe commented, shaking his head.

Steve's jaw tightened as he looked at Joe. "Unreasonable? Interesting choice of words. Yes, my team is my family. And there's nothing you won't do for family. Unless, of course, by unreasonable, you mean that they're taking a risk for a less than worthy cause. Like me. Or Riley. Is that what you think, Joe? We're not worth it? There's no . . . tactical advantage here?"

"They're risking unnecessary exposure," Riley said quietly, from the back. "They have attachments, dependents. They aren't expendable."

"You're damn right, they aren't expendable. And neither are you," Steve said.

Riley shrugged.

Joe started to say something more, but Steve cut him off with a glance.

"Joe, I barely trust you. And right now, I'm reasonably sure I hate you as much as I've ever hated anyone, ever, in my life. So, please. Just be quiet," Steve said, as he slipped the truck off the road and behind a thatch of scrubby palms. "Okay, the cannery is at the end of this road. We're going to have to try to stay in cover. Riley, with me. Joe, go in from the north side."

They each grabbed a backpack from the toolbox, and Steve ensured that each of them had a small radio.

"Danny?" Riley asked.

"He'll see the truck and know exactly what we're up to," Steve said, confident in Danny's ability to read between the lines. With that, they split up, and began their quiet and cautious approach toward the abandoned cannery.

#*#*#*#*#

"Unbelievable!" Danny yelled, bent over awkwardly looking at Riley's laptop. He had not yet been in the little space set aside for her office, and was puzzled at the low table.

"What is it?" Kono asked, pushing past Chin to get into the room. She gracefully sank to the floor behind the low table, pulling the laptop toward her. She read the address on the screen and her eyes widened.

"What?" Chin demanded, looking between Danny and Kono.

"The cannery," Danny said. "Where we found Riley after WoFat . . . the hack into the Five-O mainframe traces back to the cannery. Those bastards have probably been right under our nose, and working directly with WoFat this whole time."

"Or they set up right behind him, knowing it would be the last place we would look," Chin said.

"Well, we're looking now," Danny said grimly. He extended a hand to Kono and pulled her easily to her feet. "Let's go."

"Can we stop by the armory?" Kono asked hopefully as she followed Danny and Chin through the door.

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm at the south wall," Steve said quietly into his radio. "No sign of activity."

"North entrance," Joe's voice came back. "Same."

"Okay, move in," Steve said. He frowned at a digital keypad, out of place on the old building, and very obviously added recently. "I've got a digital access panel," he said.

"Affirmative," Joe replied. "It could be rigged."

Riley was busy pulling cables and a roll-up keyboard out of her backpack. "Hold on, I've got it," she said.

Steve looked at her curiously.

"Remember, when I borrowed some stuff from Jerry, before we went to look for Frank? And I said I could poof a building?" she asked, as she peered closely at the edge of the panel. "I'll poof the building." She selected a cable and inserted it into the bottom edge of the panel, and then connected it to the keyboard, and used another cable to connect the keyboard to her tablet.

"That a technical term?" Steve asked, watching her fingers fly over the keyboard.

"Look, half of the students at the university had skipped high school altogether. Some of them still had pink laptops. 'Poof' was the least of it, trust me. Okay, there's an encryption . . . this would have been a seven digit access code . . . oh, nice, an alarm for a single digit error, that's clever . . . there." She hit enter and the access panel lit up, then went dark. "We can go in now."

"What about Joe's door?" Steve asked, watching her deftly roll up her keyboard.

She smiled up at him. "All of the doors are unlocked. All of the alarms are silent. All of it, Steve. Are you glad you let me tag along?"

"I am glad I let you tag along," he agreed, grinning back at her as he thumbed his radio. "Joe, you're clear." He turned back to Riley. "Let's go; but stay behind me, got it?"

She nodded. "I've got your six."

"That's not what - okay. Good. You've got my six." He pushed the door open carefully, and stepped through, leading with his Sig Sauer. "Clear," he said quietly, as he continued moving into the eerily quiet building.

Riley was close on his heels, slipping the door shut silently behind her. She turned back around, and almost ran into Steve, who had stopped and was staring around the vast, open space in amazement.

"What -" she said, stepping slightly to his side so that she could see around his broad shoulders. "Oh. Wow."

The space was filled with equipment: monitors and CPUs spread over folding tables filled the center of the cannery. Most of it was in rubble; screens shattered, wires exposed, smoke wafting up in weak, gray tendrils. Steve's eyes drifted toward the raised platform where they had found Riley, and he quickly raised his weapon toward the body lying there. He moved quickly and silently, Riley falling in behind him, up the stairs. A quick prod of his foot indicated that the person lying facedown in a significant amount of blood was no threat, and he holstered his weapon.

"Fielding?" Steve said, confused, as he turned the body over gently and got a look at the face of the man for the first time. There was a deep graze on the side of his head, which had bled profusely and contributed to the bulk of the blood. There was another wound on his shoulder, also bleeding. "He's got a pulse," Steve said, as his hand pressed against his neck. The heel of his hand rested against something bulky under his simple button-down, and Steve pulled the shirt down to reveal a Kevlar vest.

Fielding groaned as Steve investigated further.

"Fielding?" Steve said again, slipping one hand under his neck and patting his cheek with the other.

"McGarrett," Fielding wheezed. "Never thought - I'd be happy - to see you."

"Hold still, tell me where you're injured," Steve said. Riley saw Joe approaching and waved him over.

"Bastard - shot me - in the back," Fielding said through gritted teeth. "Might have - couple - busted ribs."

"Why were you wearing a vest?" Steve asked.

"Because these people - are insane," Fielding replied, struggling to focus his eyes. "Shit." He closed his eyes again.

"You probably have a concussion. Hold on, we'll call an ambulance," Steve said, reaching for his phone.

"No!" Fielding protested, fisting his hand in Steve's shirt. "No, Garrison has to - think I'm dead, or he - would have finished the job. Let him - think that. It's the only way - I can - help you."

Joe nodded in agreement. "The building's clear, and there's a small infirmary set up just down that way. Let's get him there, take a look. Probably nothing we can't handle."

Joe and Steve carefully hoisted Fielding up off the floor and down the stairs, Joe leading the way to the small room he'd passed. Steve hadn't noticed it when they were searching for Riley, but then, he'd not cleared all of the rooms. Fielding turned ashen with pain, sweat beading out on his face.

"Riley, call Danny," Steve said, as they made their way carefully through the debris ridden space. "Tell him to come on, but carefully."

"No one else will be - coming," Fielding said. "They've moved." He sighed in relief as Steve and Joe deposited him on a narrow exam table. Steve looked around. The room was small, but impeccably clean, and filled with medical equipment.

Fielding answered his unspoken question. "It was set up - after. After you found her here. It was - in case -" he broke off in pain.

"This. This was set up for Riley?" Steve asked, his hand fisting around the collar of Fielding's shirt.

"Steve," Riley said, placing her hand gently on Steve's arm. "The rest of the team is coming. Fielding can't tell us anything if he's dead, right?"

Steve shook his head and took a deep breath. "Okay, Joe, let's get him fixed up. And then he's going to tell us everything. And so help me God, his story better match yours."

SEAL medic training was good - outstanding, in fact. SEALs rivaled the best of trauma paramedics in their training and abilities, and as Joe rummaged through the cabinets, he was pleased to see they had plenty to work with. No need for some of the primitive make-shift provisions he'd used on many missions. But there was one item that he couldn't find.

"I can't find any local anesthetic," he commented, double checking several cabinets. "No lidocaine, no marcaine."

"They wouldn't have - stocked any," Fielding said, looking away from Steve. "Not for the girl."

Steve growled low in his throat as the implication of Fielding's words set in.

Fielding looked at him apologetically. "They would have wanted - data. On pain reception. She can - block -"

"Shut up," Steve hissed. "Fine. You won't get any anesthetic, either, then. Seems fair." He looked at Joe. "You want the head or the shoulder?"

"Your hand is steadier than mine," Joe said, looking at Steve impassively. "I'll take the shoulder, you stitch up his head. I don't think I'd want you digging around for a bullet in me, in your state of mind."

"Fine," Steve said tersely, scrubbing his hands at the small sink.

Steve and Joe set to work, shifting Fielding to remove his shirt and vest. The vest had stopped two bullets from entering his back, and he bit back a muffled cry of pain as the vest was removed, revealing spectacular bruising already forming on his back.

"I wasn't going to - continue. Any more. I was done," Fielding said. "I turned to walk away - Garrison shot me in the back."

"Who's Garrison?" Steve asked. "No, stay on your side. You've got an entrance wound at the back of your shoulder, no exit wound at the front." Riley wordlessly fetched a thick foam pillow from the corner of the room, and wedged it behind Fielding's lower back.

Fielding nodded in thanks at Riley, as he answered Steve. "My boss. Project - manager. Seriously, you're going to - do this all at once?" he gasped, as Joe began cleaning out his shoulder, and Steve started irrigating the head wound.

Steve grinned, feral and malicious. "Oh, there's a theory that if you confuse the brain with pain signals from two places at once, it actually helps minimize the pain."

"Really?" Riley asked. She had perched herself next to Joe, curious.

"No," Steve said flatly. "I honestly don't give a shit about his pain levels. You don't have to help, Riley."

She shrugged. "Joe didn't teach me this part. I want to see," she said stubbornly.

"Show her, then," Steve nodded to Joe. "You've taught her everything else, why not."

Fielding opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together as Joe probed his shoulder with a forceps, and Steve began suturing the gash on his head. By the time Chin, Danny, and Kono arrived, Steve had finished, and Joe was supervising Riley's placement of the final stitches on Fielding's shoulder.

Fielding was panting in pain and looking positively green as Danny, the first to come through the door, looked at Steve in alarm.

"Please tell me you're not torturing someone for information, Steven," he said.

"No, our friend Agent Fielding managed to do that all by himself," Steve said. "Get him cleaned up, Joe, I'll catch everyone up." Steve washed his hands again and stepped outside the room.

"What is going on?" Chin asked, gesturing to the smoldering equipment behind them.

"Fielding's Special Activities Division was apparently set up here," Steve said. "He was going to refuse to cooperate with them further, and the person in charge, someone he called Garrison, shot him in the back and left him for dead."

"And apparently destroyed all of the evidence," Kono said.

"Shooting a computer is a stupid way to try to destroy it," Riley said, coming out of the room. "That was fun, thanks for making Joe show me how to do it." She wandered off toward the equipment that looked the least damaged, and started fiddling with it.

Chin looked skeptically at Steve, who shook his head.

"Fielding was injured, but the worst of the shots were blocked - he was wearing a vest. He said that he thought Garrison was crazy, so I guess he saw this coming. He had a bullet in his shoulder and one grazed his head. That's probably what saved his life; head wounds bleed like crazy, this Garrison person probably assumed all of his shots were good and that Fielding would never survive," Steve explained.

"Still, we need to get him to a hospital," Danny said.

"We can't risk it," Joe said, coming out of the room to join them. "Besides, there's no need. I found a supply of antibiotic so I've proactively dosed him to prevent infection."

"Yeah, it was just a gunshot wound," Danny grumbled. "Crazy SEALs."

"Alright, well, let's see what he has to say," Steve said, shoving the door open roughly. He stood in front of Fielding, arms crossed over his chest. "Tell us everything."

Fielding looked at them weakly and sighed. "This was a sub-division of Special Activities. Off-book, a unit run by Director Marcus Garrison. We don't even have a name, just a project title: Shelburne. Which was damn confusing, because the person calling the shots, the director of the director, was also Shelburne."

"The _person_?" Steve asked, wanting to test and see how much Fielding really knew.

"All I know of Shelburne is that they're cold-hearted and ruthless," Fielding said. "There was a digitally altered voice that came over a speaker phone. That's all. I'm not even sure that Garrison knows who Shelburne is."

"Keep going. Tell me about Shelburne. The person," Steve said. He glanced over his shoulder, glad that Riley was engrossed by trying to piece together an only partially damaged CPU.

"Shelburne pushed Garrison harder and harder; kept escalating the testing. The more data we got in, the more the two of them wanted to push the limits. I told them, I told them it was crazy, that once the girl was with you, and once we lost Joe's cooperation, it wasn't going to end well. But they were . . . fixated. It was like the girl wasn't even human to them; just a test subject," Fielding said. He coughed weakly.

"Where is Shelburne now?" Steve gritted out, his hands clenched into fists.

"I have no idea," Fielding said. "Garrison said that the interface was complete; that the tracking and collection had fused with the girl's central nervous system, and that they could move on. I heard a helicopter . . . they could be anywhere by now." He stopped, coughing again, and groaning in pain. "Do you - do you know who Shelburne is? What is the girl to Shelburne? What prompted this insanity?"

"The _girl's name_ is Riley," Steve growled, as Danny placed a comforting hand on his back. "And Shelburne . . . Shelburne, God help us, is our mother."

Fielding closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Steve. "Commander McGarrett," he said quietly. "I'm so very, very sorry. I'll do whatever I can to help you. To protect the - to protect Riley. You must realize by now, she is one of the most highly valued projects of the CIA. They'll stop at nothing to control her."


	18. Classified 2

The team was still focused on Fielding and his explanation of Riley, when they were startled by a sharp crackle of electricity, accompanied by a violent flicker of the lights in the building.

Steve was the first to make it through the door of the small infirmary, and his eyes frantically scanned the open space for Riley. He spotted her, holding her hand to her mouth, and looking at him sheepishly. HIs long stride carried him to her side in seconds.

"Riley?" he asked, concerned, reaching for her hand. He pulled it away, and winced at the sight of a flash burn on her thumb.

"Stupid mistake," Riley said. "I was distracted . . . let my thumb complete a circuit. Good news, though, I managed to get one of the CPUs running again. Sort of."

"May I?" Joe had grabbed some cream and a roll of gauze from the infirmary and joined Steve and Riley at the long, narrow workstation. Steve instinctively reached for the supplies, but Joe had reached for Riley's hand, and she had hesitantly extended it to him. Steve resisted the impulse to shove Joe away, but he watched closely as Joe dabbed cream onto the burn and wrapped it with a thin layer of gauze, tying it off neatly.

"Shelburne said that your loyalties were with the subject, not the project," Fielding said. He was being propped up by Danny.

"He insisted on coming out," Danny said, apologetic.

Riley had managed to connect the CPU to a monitor. She shoved the mangled keyboard aside, replacing it with her portable one. Data began to flicker across the cracked screen; distorted, but still somewhat readable.

"Tell us what we're looking at," Joe said, looking at Fielding.

"You don't know?" Fielding asked, surprised.

"I was never read in on the particulars of the science," Joe said. "The program was kept deliberately compartmentalized. I only knew the big picture - the primary phases."

Fielding shuffled gingerly to the monitor. "Gamma waves, beta waves," he pointed. "In real time."

Riley's eyes widened. "You mean, right this minute?"

"Yes. It's being read somewhere else, too, I can assure you. Pain receptor readings, biological readings," he continued to point at different lines waving across the screen. "And if we go to a different screen," he added, his fingers moving across the keyboard, "we get a recording of previous readings. "For example, here we have a flood of endorphins - that would have been the first suggestibility test. And here, pain receptors spike. When positive reinforcement doesn't work, negative reinforcement is applied. And here, the pain receptors recede. That would have been when . . . well, I'm sorry. That's when you would have complied with the suggestibility. Again, I'm so sorry."

"Wait, what are you talking about," Riley said. "What do you mean, when I complied with the suggestibility?"

"I'm sorry; to be blunt, when you killed Dr. Charlie Fong," Fielding said.

Riley looked at Steve, unsure of how much information she should give away.

"What if we told you that Charlie Fong isn't dead," Steve said, watching Fielding closely for his reaction.

Fielding looked completely confused. "But, the pain would have been excruciating; the feedback showed an enormous spike directly in the pain center of the brain. And then, it receded. The only way that should have worked is for the suggestion to be followed by the subject. Clearly, there was some sort of compliance; because the subject - sorry, Riley - didn't lose consciousness. I don't understand."

"I took a clean shot," Riley said, shrugging. "And I told Charlie that he needed to be dead, except not really dead. It's pretty hazy. But I didn't kill Charlie; I took a deliberate clean shot." She turned to Chin and Kono, her eyes filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry; I didn't want to hurt him. It was . . . the pain was too much, I couldn't -" She broke off as Chin wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple.

"You did great, Riley," Chin assured her.

"That shouldn't have been possible," Fielding said, looking at Riley in amazement. He turned and looked at Steve and Joe. "I knew it," he said. "I knew Shelburne had underestimated . . . good for you. Good for you, Riley."

Danny shook his head. This was messed up, is what it was: science fiction, gamma and beta waves, and Joe looking so proud, because he'd taught Riley to take a clean shot . . . this was seriously messed up, and he wasn't even on the clock.

Riley was studying the readouts with interest. "Jerry is going to be so mad that he's not here to see this," she said.

"Especially this part," Fielding said, his pain forgotten for the moment as he explained the readouts. "See this? The beta waves are absolutely off the charts. Usually, your gamma waves are stronger."

"What's the difference?" Chin asked.

"Beta waves measure emotional response; gamma waves measure processing and higher logical order thinking. Here, right here, the beta waves completely overwhelm every other measurement. I actually thought it was going to fry the system," Fielding said. "You can see here, the timestamp . . . "

"Son of a bitch," Steve said quietly. "The overlook."

"And then here, we lost all readings. All biologicals. Until here; at this timestamp. There was a definitive event, and at that point, the monitoring system went from localized, to fully integrated with your central nervous system," Fielding said.

"Her heart stopped, and they started it again," Steve said.

Kono had her hand over her mouth; tears in her eyes. She hadn't been told.

"Electrical shock?" Fielding asked.

"Epinephrine," Steve supplied.

Fielding nodded his head. "Chemical catalyst. It launched the system into full integration with her central nervous system."

"So they did it, then," Joe said. "They've been working on this technology since the sixties."

"Did what?" Steve asked.

"Neural implants" Fielding said. "Developed many steps further, of course, but the same basic principal as cochlear or retinal implants. Just smaller, faster, and stronger. The science has always been there, but Special Activities Division is one of the few organizations with the wherewithal to take it this far."

"Take it this far, and use it for something other than medical applications," Danny said darkly.

"Oh, man. Jerry is gonna be so, so mad that he's not here," Riley said, her eyes wide. "Okay, so neural implants, but that only happened when I got here, to Hawaii. Joe says that he suspected something when he took me to Frank's. Tell me about the DNA. What did they do?"

Fielding hesitated, and swayed a bit on his feet. Chin found a rolling office chair that was still intact, and pulled it up behind him, gently pressing on his uninjured shoulder until he sat down.

"That was years before I came to the project," Fielding said. When Steve took a threatening step closer to him, he put his hands up defensively. "I swear. What do I possibly have to gain by withholding anything from you at this point? I know your DNA was somehow enhanced; controlled. Certain characteristics emphasized, other characteristics minimized. When, and how, exactly, I'm not sure. If there are records, I never had access to them."

All eyes turned to Joe; he nodded apologetically. "Same here. I didn't even suspect anything, remember, until Riley was with me in Korea, with Frank."

"Shelburne always worried, and half expected, that your personal attachment to the subject - sorry, to Riley - would cloud your objectivity. I was always under the impression that there was a great deal of information withheld from you, Commander White," Fielding said.

"Ah, no need for the title, remember? You disavowed me, and the Navy discharged me," Joe said, bitterness evident in his tone.

"So, now what?" Danny demanded. "This is the biggest mess . . . stupid CIA and SAD and all these godforsaken alphabet agencies . . . what I want to know is, how do we keep Riley safe, and what the hell do we do with these two?" He gestured wildly, causing Kono to smirk. "We're collecting disavowed and presumed dead CIA agents like Gracie collects Hello Kitty stickers. How do we, you know, turn it off? Turn the neural thingy off?"

"There was a chemical catalyst to activate it," Steve mused. "Surely there's something to deactivate it. She's a sitting duck, if she's actively transmitting and -" he stopped short, but everyone knew what went unsaid: not only was Riley actively transmitting, she was completely defenseless against further attempts at suggestion and control.

Fielding was uncomfortably silent.

"What is it, Agent Fielding?" Joe said, standing over him.

"Well, as you said, Commander White, the program was kept deliberately compartmentalized. The only mention I heard of deactivating the implant was in Termination Phase. And I'm not read in to the science."

"Son of a bitch," Steve shouted. "So, what, they just planned to - what, Fielding?!" he demanded.

"Commander McGarrett, I'm so sorry," Fielding said. "Genuinely sorry. I had no idea, when I was recruited for this project . . . I didn't know. If it's any consolation, there was obviously a termination phase for me, as well. If it hadn't been for you all, it would be complete by now."

Steve sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

"If Shelburne finds out you're still alive . . . " he said, looking at Fielding.

"I won't be for long," Fielding finished. "I can handle myself, disappear . . . once I'm healed up."

Steve was pacing back and forth, processing, calculating . . . he stopped, and turned to Riley.

"Hideki Mokoto left you a house . . . it's fairly remote, defensible . . . would you consider -" he started.

"Yes," Riley said, before he even finished. "Fielding can stay there. And Joe, because Fielding can't defend himself right now."

Steve thought about it a moment, then nodded. He looked at Joe. "Well, Joe, what do you think? Would you be willing to offer protection to Fielding, until we get this sorted?"

Joe shrugged. "Same agency is gunning for both of us, may as well throw our lot in together. You and Riley could use with a secondary safe house as well. We'll need to set up surveillance, entry and exit points, intruder detection."

"Of course," Steve said.

Joe grinned. "I always did like Mokoto's place."

"They're both smiling," Danny sighed. "This does not bode well for us."

#*#*#*#*#

Chin, Kono, and Danny were dispatched back to Five-O with minimal protest, much to Steve's surprise.

"You're not arguing with me," he said, crossing his arms and looking down at Danny suspiciously. "Why aren't you arguing with me? You weren't terribly worried about plausible deniability when you drove out here to back us up. Which, thank you, by the way, but it makes me wonder why you're willing to go back to the poaching case now."

"Because, Steven, this is too much, okay? It's just all too much, and we're getting into completely unfamiliar territory here. I mean, DNA, and neural implants, and anything involving Joe White . . . I just need a moment. Or two. There's no . . . I have no frame of reference for this. You're taking it very calmly."

Steve shrugged. "Working Naval Intelligence, you hear . . . rumors. This isn't my first brush with Special Activities Division. I've worked with their people, provided security for some of their projects. There's been extractions where . . . well, I've seen things."

"It is a scary, scary place inside your head, Steven McGarrett," Danny said. "Don't you think Riley should come with us? Do you trust Fielding and Joe White?"

Steve hesitated, looking to ensure that they weren't within earshot of the others. "If what Fielding says is true, and whatever they used to try to get her to shoot Charlie is now integrated with her central nervous system . . . he is the closest thing we have right now to answers. Danny, if somehow Shelburne has even more control over Riley now . . ."

"She could be dangerous," Danny finished quietly. "Shit, Steve. I'm sorry. Okay, yeah, I see your plan. Just - don't start looking at her the way Fielding does, got it? Like she's some sophisticated piece of Navy-issued technology. For all her nifty nanobots and DNA enhancements, she's just a wide-eyed innocent with the same abandonment issues as you."

"I don't have abandonment issues," Steve replied automatically.

Danny's eyes crinkled in a warm smile. "And I don't have a Jersey accent, babe."

#*#*#*#*#

The drive to Mokoto's mountain home was quiet; the sky was overcast with low-hanging clouds. Riley sat silently next to Steve in the Silverado; Joe and Fielding behind them in Joe's nondescript Jeep.

"You okay?" Steve asked, as she fidgeted with the bandage on her arm.

She nodded. "It's a lot to process. I thought . . . I wonder, if I had just been faster, if I could have gotten that thing out of my arm sooner, maybe . . . " She fell silent again, and looked out the window as the wind continued to build, turning the leaves.

"Maybe what, sweetheart?" Steve prompted gently.

"Maybe you wouldn't have to try to protect your team from me," Riley said, turning her hazel eyes to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Steve. If I had just realized, if I had just moved faster. I'm sorry."

"Riley," Steve said earnestly, "none of this is your fault, do you understand me? None of it."

"What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?"

They pulled in front of the house just as the first fat raindrops began to splat on the windshield. Riley followed Steve's lead and climbed quickly out of the truck cab and ducked onto the wide, covered porch. He wrapped one hand around her shoulder, and the other hand cupped her face gently.

"Kid, I'm pretty sure I can take you," he said, grinning down at her. She was lanky and lean, just like him, but he still had quite a few inches on her. Just like a big brother should, he thought, although he didn't completely tower over her the way he did over Mary.

When she shoved him - hard - both hands against his chest, he realized that he had miscalculated the situation. And as he fell against the side of the house, hard enough to knock the wide out of him, he realized that he had underestimated her strength.

"Can you, though? Are you sure?" Riley demanded, her eyes blazing. "If I try to take out Danny, or Kono, are you going to be able to stop me? Will you have what it takes to put a bullet in me before I hurt someone? Because I'm counting on you, Steve. I'm counting on you to protect your people from me. I'm counting on you to protect me from myself."

"Riley," Steve said, holding his hands up and approaching her carefully, "we are going to figure this out; we're going to get answers. We're another step closer - a big step - with Agent Fielding helping us. And in the meantime, Riley, yes. Joe and I will stop you. We're going to protect the team, and we're going to protect you."

"The team. The team comes first, Steve, promise me. Promise me if it comes to it you'll take me out and protect your people," Riley insisted. Her normally low voice was pitching higher, tinged with hysteria.

Joe and Fielding had quietly joined them on the porch, standing back and watching with growing concern.

"Promise me," Riley demanded again. She was eyeing the holster at his belt.

Steve shook his head. "It's not going to come to that, Riley," he said. He was watching carefully as Fielding had stepped in closer to Riley, his hand reaching . . .

"Hey!" Steve barked, but Fielding had pressed his thumb against the base of her skull, and she crumpled, boneless, to the wooden floor of the porch.

Joe stepped between Steve and Fielding before blood was shed, and held up a hand. "Steve," he said calmly, "she was on the verge of panic, and you and I both know she was looking awfully hard at your SIG. Fielding diffused the situation quite well, I think, all things considered."

Steve knelt and checked Riley's pulse - strong and steady.

"There are multiple fail-safes built into the protocol. When she comes to," Fielding said, kindly, "you'll be able to assure her that we can, in fact, protect her from herself. It would seem that the possibility of hurting others is her greatest fear. If she realizes that we have ways to keep her from doing that, she's going to be much happier, don't you think, Commander?"

Steve curved his body protectively over Riley's prone form. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Will she come around on her own, or is there a _protocol_ for that as well?"

"I can bring her around," Fielding said, "but she'll be more comfortable if we let it happen naturally. If I force it, she'll experience -" His sentence was cut off with a warning glance and shake of the head from Joe.

"Get out of my sight," Steve grit out. "Now. The both of you."

Joe put a hand on Fielding's shoulder and steered him inside the house. He settled the injured agent in the kitchen with a cup of tea, and then returned to a window where he could see Steve and Riley. He watched as Steve slid his arms under Riley's knees and shoulders and picked her up easily. He sat down in one of the simple, low teak chairs on the porch and cradled Riley against him, ensuring that her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder. Joe saw him murmuring against her hair, but from the angle, couldn't make out what he was saying. The slump of his shoulder, and the impatient swipes of the heel of his hand against his eyes spoke volumes, though, and Joe turned away from the window as a flood of remorse threatened to overwhelm him.

Joe went into the kitchen and fixed two more cups of tea, and then stepped quietly out onto the porch. He placed the cups carefully on the small, intricately carved table between the two chairs, and settled into the empty chair. Leaning forward, Joe looked out over the scenery that spread below them, as dark clouds continued to roll in. Lightning flashed in the distance, as the occasional low rumble of distant thunder accompanied the steady patter of rain around them. Joe stayed silent, content for the moment that Steve hadn't demanded to be left alone.

Finally, Steve took a sip of tea. "I would have had a couple years with her, before I went off to college. Even if I had gone to Annapolis, and not stayed on the island - I would have had a couple years with her. She would have been a toddler. She would have been saying my name; I would have come home for holidays, and picked her up and held her. She might have even cried when I had to leave. Mary would have had five or six years with her, you know? She would have been in kindergarten, or preschool maybe, when Mary graduated high school. I bet she would have made Mary crazy, getting into her stuff . . ."

Joe listened silently.

"She would have had a boyfriend by now, you know? Even if she was the classic McGarrett late bloomer; she would have had guys asking her out. I wouldn't have made it easy for them. There would have been, at the very least, video calls. I would have called them on a secure satellite video feed. From Afghanistan. In uniform."

Joe chuckled. Steve wouldn't have been the first older brother to hassle his baby sister's dates.

"And she would have complained to Mary, and Mary would have laughed and talked about how I did that with her boyfriends, too. Except I didn't get to, Joe, because our mother faked her death, and our father sent us away, and Mary . . . she was so, so angry and hurt. And I tried, Joe, I did; I tried to keep up with Mary but she didn't even want to talk to me, and I was as lost as she was. And all this time, Riley was . . . and I didn't know. I didn't even know."

"I know it doesn't count for much, Steve, but I'm sorry. I thought everything was being done to protect you, and Mary. By the time I realized, second-guessed . . . questioned my orders - it was almost too late," Joe said.

"I trusted you, Joe," Steve said quietly. "You were the only . . . after my mom died, and dad shipped me off to the mainland, you were the only family I knew."

"And I can still be that family, Steve, if I can earn back your trust," Joe replied. He took another sip of his tea. "If I can earn back your respect."

Steve was silent, looking out over the wind-swept trees in the valley below them. Riley began to shift a little in his arms, and he brushed the hair away from her face.

"She was an exceptional child," Joe said quietly. "She reminded me so much of you, even as a toddler. Strong-willed, perceptive. I saw her a few times a year, when I would go to debrief your mother."

"You were seeing them . . . my God, Joe, the whole time I was at Annapolis, going through BUDs, going on those early missions - you were seeing my mother. And my baby sister. And you came back and . . . I don't understand, Joe, how you could keep that from me. From my father," Steve said.

"Because I was reminded that if you knew, if any of you knew - you would be targets. I was convinced that it was the only way to keep you safe. To protect you," Joe said. "I'm not sure you realize . . . Steve, your mother isn't one of the CIA's highest ranking operatives for no reason. She's convincing." He paused. "Manipulative," he added, apologetically. "You didn't get that from her; you got your dad's honesty and straightforwardness. As did Riley."

"I guess Mary got the manipulative part," Steve chuckled. "That explains how I find myself consistently bailing her out of trouble."

"The McGarrett women are a beautiful bunch," Joe said. There was something in his tone that Steve started to question, but just at that moment, Riley stirred, then flinched violently.

"Charlie," she gasped, struggling in Steve's arms.

"Hey, hey, no, it's okay," Steve said, holding her tightly. "Riley, calm down. Wake up, it's okay. Charlie is okay."

Riley stilled and struggled to open her eyes.

"Hey, there you go," Steve said. "You with me?"

"Yeah. What happened?" Riley asked, confused.

"You got agitated; do you remember what about?" Steve asked, handing her his cup of tea.

She took a sip and nodded at Joe. It was familiar. "I was . . . worried that I would hurt someone."

"So Fielding pulled some sort of pressure point and you went down like a sack of potatoes," Steve said.

"The little shit," Riley mumbled.

"Language," Joe said, looking at her sternly.

"Riley, we'll get Fielding to explain more, but this means that there are ways to safely defuse any . . . situation that comes up," Steve said.

"Failsafes," Riley said, standing up and walking to the porch railing. She leaned her arms on it, looking out over the trees. The sky was continuing to darken and the thunder was getting closer. "It's beautiful," Riley said.

Joe looked around at the Japanese style house and the lush forest below. "Does it look like home?"

Riley turned and looked at him. "Home? Not sure where that is, Joe."

"Home's with me, Riley," Steve said, his voice quiet but strong. "Home is with me, and family is with Five-O."


	19. Classified 3

"How are we supposed to focus on this poaching case, with Steve and Riley out there, doing God knows what, with Joe White and that, that - spook?!" Kono said, pacing in front of the tech table.

"Kono, babe, we can't do anything to help them right now. As talented as we are, this is out of our element. Besides, the governor is going to get suspicious, and antsy, and start asking way too many questions. And Steve doesn't need that, on top of everything else. No, we need to make progress on this poaching case," Danny said. "Besides, I think we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility . . . "

"What, Danny?" Chin asked.

"I was there when Steve pulled Mary out of the trunk of a car. I was with him when he turned that laser focus on tracking down the people who took her . . . the people who hurt his sister. You haven't seen the scary Super SEAL side of Steve until you've seen someone lay a finger on a sister of his, I'm telling you," Danny said. "We need to prepare for the possibility that Steve is going to go off the reservation."

"Off the reservation," Kono repeated, arching a brow and folding her arms. That usually didn't bode well for Danny. He knew that Kono practically worshipped Steve, and he may have just taken his life in his hands by questioning him.

"Look, I'm not saying that Steve isn't completely loyal to Five-O. He is. But Steve, with his family . . . you understand. Family. Ohana. He goes a little nuts. And if he went nuts over Mary, I can't imagine . . . with everything these schmucks put Riley through . . . I'm just saying, we need to have a contingency plan, in the event that Steve takes some time away from Five-O to deal with this," Danny said.

"We want there to be a Five-O for him to come back to," Chin said.

"Exactly."

The three of them were silent for a moment.

"Okay, so poachers . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Joe fixed Riley her own cup of tea, and showed the group around the spacious house. In deference to his injuries, they agreed that Fielding would get the front bedroom with it's own bathroom, and he collapsed gratefully onto the low bed.

Joe led them back through the living area, and they made a gentle turn into what felt like a separate wing of the house. There was a spacious study, two guest bedrooms and a hall bath, and another bedroom with an en suite. The floors were gleaming wood, covered with rich oriental carpets; their decades of wear only enhancing their beauty. The artwork was simple and understated, where it existed at all. Riley found herself thinking of the monastery as she walked, barefoot, down the hallway. She'd instinctively slipped her shoes off at the door, as the Asian influence of the house had her slipping easily back into her life-long habits from living in Japan. Steve doubted that it had even registered with Riley, really, that the house was hers; willed to her by Mokoto.

Joe smiled at her. "When I asked if this felt like home," he said gently, "this was what I meant. The style, the architecture - it's all Japanese."

"It even smells the same," Riley said. She was relaxing for the first time in what seemed like days.

"Teak, and sandalwood," Joe said. "I thought Riley would want this bedroom; it has its own bathroom as well, and I'll take the room just opposite." He said it hesitantly; he thought it was for the best, but he wasn't sure how Steve and Riley would react.

"Riley stays with me," Steve said firmly.

"Then that bedroom is yours," Joe said, pointing to the third bedroom. "Look. Until we know more about what's going on, and until we can figure out a way to safely undo whatever Shelburne has done, Riley is better off kept under close protection; our protection."

"You mean, you need to protect the team, and the innocent citizens of Hawaii, from me," Riley said. "No, I get it, really," she added, as Joe looked at her apologetically. She turned to Steve. "He's right on this one. I will be a nervous wreck back down there, not knowing what could happen. Fielding seems to know a few tricks, and Joe might be able to take me on, with back-up." She grinned at Joe.

"You're sure?" Steve asked. "I'll stay, then." In addition to enough surveillance and early warning detection materials to outfit a small compound, they'd all brought enough clothes and supplies for several days. Steve had been somewhat saddened to realize that Riley had, in fact, never unpacked anything at his house - all of the clothing and items that Renee had gathered for her had remained neatly packed into her bag; folded and put right back each time she did laundry.

Riley shook her head. "Steve, at some point you'll have to take care of your team, take care of Five-O. I want my job back when this is over."

Joe smiled. It was settled, then. Maybe, just maybe, in this beautiful space, and a little bit of time, he could earn back the trust that he'd betrayed all these years. From the look Steve was giving him, it wasn't going to be easy, but then, Steve hadn't punched, strangled, or threatened him in the last few hours, so there was hope.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve woke the next morning feeling reasonably rested. Joe had suggested that they simply take shifts being awake and listening for Riley; since neither of them would sleep well for worrying about her. Knowing that Joe was deliberately listening for any sign of trouble did, in fact, allow Steve to sleep. He still had some reservations about his former commanding officer, but Joe was slowly and surely proving himself. The fact that Shelburne and the SAD no longer trusted Joe, meant that Steve was more inclined to.

He showered quickly and went into the kitchen. Riley was there, fixing a cup of tea.

She held up an extra tea bag in his direction, and he nodded.

"I'd love some, thank you," he said. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mostly," she said, pouring water from the kettle into their cups. "You and Joe work out the shift schedule for Riley-watch?"

Steve grinned. "Hey, we have a rogue agent in the house, too, you know. It's not all about you, kid."

"Yeah, well, I was a spoiled only child until you came along," she retorted.

He took the cup from her outstretched hand, and brushed her still sleep-tousled hair away from her face. She looked so young in the weak morning light streaming into the kitchen window. "You okay with not being an only child?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Oh yeah," she said, "really, really okay."

He frowned as his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, pulling it out and looking at it.

"What is it?" Riley asked, curious.

"They have a big lead on the poaching case," Steve sighed.

"Go," Riley said. "You're the team leader; go lead the team."

"Riley, I -" Steve started, but she cut him off.

"Steve. You can't do this. You can't just put your entire life on hold for me. We don't know where this is going to lead, how long it's going to take to unravel everything. I want you to have a life when this is over," Riley insisted. "I want to have a life when this is over. There's a job for me at Five-O, I hope, someday, when I can be trusted to interact with civilized folk again. Go. Catch the bad people hurting the animals, and then come back and tell me all about it."

"You're sure?" Steve asked quietly. "I mean, Fielding is . . . and Joe . . ."

"Well, they're no friends of Shelburne, which means, maybe, they're friends of ours?" Riley asked.

"It feels like a gamble," Steve admitted.

"Gotta trust someone, sometime," Riley said. "Or I can go back to North Korea and stay with Frank. Go. Go do the Five-O thing, Steve. Seriously. I'll be fine here." She paused, then poked at him with her foot. "Don't smother me."

Steve grinned as he sipped the last of his tea, then stood and kissed Riley on the forehead. "Okay, bossy pants."

#*#*#*#*#

When he returned that evening, a bit bruised, and sporting a few bites from a small exotic primate, Riley was sparring with Joe in the quiet, manicured garden behind the house. They each spared him a small nod and then went back to what they were doing.

He watched, intrigued, as Riley easily blocked Joe's punches. Joe was hardly up to his full strength, but still, it was easy to imagine the grace and speed that Riley had at her disposal. Fielding sat in a corner, observing; studying. It made Steve feel uneasy, the vaguely clinical expression on Fielding's face as he watched.

Riley went on the offensive against Joe, backing him easily into a low stone wall.

She looked up at Steve, flushed and happy. "Come on, big brother, let me see what you've got."

"I'm not sparring with you, Riley," Steve said, shaking his head, smiling indulgently at her. "But you've impressed me. Joe, you trained her well."

"She got more from the monks than she did from me," Joe said.

"Well, to a point," Fielding observed. "Riley, if you were to take Steve on right now, how would you do it?" His tone was light, curious.

Riley stalked around Steve, her bare feet completely soundless in the short, dense grass. He had an image of a Siamese cat.

"Well," she said, eyes sparkling . . . this was a fun game she had played with Joe as a teenager in North Korea. "He has a height and weight advantage, so I'd have to focus on undermining his balance. He's favoring his right forearm right now; he has - what bit you? - he has puncture wounds on that arm, probably some bruising underneath those, so I'd try to get him to block as much as possible with that arm. I'd look for a pain reaction and then go for the ribs . . . " she paused, tilting her head and studying him, ". . . no. Not the ribs. The groin." She grinned as Steve flinched.

"Hey," he protested.

Riley shrugged. "It's effective," she said. "Groin, then knee. Hard and fast; I'd only get one shot, so I'd have to make it count. Take out the knee, then I have the advantage of balance. Once I have the advantage of balance, his height and weight become a disadvantage, not an advantage. Then I go for ribs, neck, head shot."

"Punch or kick?" Joe asked.

Riley studied Steve. "Kick. I'd have to kick, because . . . I don't think I could bring myself to hurt him with my hand. A kick would feel less personal; I'd have more distance. I'd have to go for a roundhouse, or a flying back."

"Can you get the height you need?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Riley said. "Easily." She demonstrated, moving into a fluid roundhouse, followed by a flying back kick, in the general direction of Joe. It was obvious that she could have made contact with his jaw quite easily.

"Wow," Steve said, impressed, as Joe and Fielding smiled in satisfaction.

"Tell me how you'd go for others," Fielding said.

"Who?" Riley asked.

Fielding shrugged. "Just for practice. Detective Williams. How would you approach Williams?"

"Easy," Riley said. "Knee. He has a weight advantage, but not a height advantage. He favors his knee consistently, so there's an old injury. I would go for the knee, hard and fast."

"Kono," Fielding prompted.

"Same," Riley said, her eyes somehow shifting, giving Steve the uneasy impression that she was possibly in some sort of meditative state. "She favors a knee as well. She's more flexible, way faster than Danny. I'd have to come from behind, ideally. Knee, and then probably pressure point at the neck, take her down gently."

"Why gently?" Fielding asked, curious. "You wouldn't take Steve or Williams gently, why Kono?"

"Kono is rarely out of range of others," Riley said. "Chin, for one. Cousins. She doesn't realize it; I'm not sure they even realize it. I'd have to take her down gently, or they'd hear."

"Chin?" Fielding prompted.

Riley started to respond, but then blinked, shook her head as if to clear it, and looked at Steve, her eyes clouded with confusion. She misread his expression of concern for her as disgust, and her eyes filled with tears.

"No," she said fiercely, turning to Fielding. Before Steve or Joe could react, she had the former agent by the throat. "No. You're trying to make me hurt them," she hissed.

As Fielding's eyes bulged, Steve and Joe rushed to try to gently pull her away from him. Steve was amazed at the strength of her grip, and worried that they would not be able to physically prevent her from strangling the man.

He changed tactics. "Riley, sweetheart, you're okay," he said quietly, into her ear, while he stroked the back of her hand gently. "No one is going to make you hurt the team, or let you hurt the team."

She released her grip on Fielding and turned, clutching at Steve.

"How do you know?" she said brokenly. "Apparently, I've already found their weak spots. God, Steve, what am I? What did they make me into?" She dissolved into quiet sobs, hiding her face in his neck, as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"Go," he said quietly, to Fielding and to Joe.

"I'm sorry," Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret, and he laid his hand softly and briefly on the back of Riley's head. He helped Fielding get up out of his chair and silently led him back toward the house.

Steve continued to murmur soft words of comfort in Riley's ear as he rubbed her back, waiting for her sobs to subside.

"You're something else, you know that?" Steve said. "You are absolutely one of the strongest people I've ever met; in fact, it's only someone else being hurt that gets to you. You know what that makes you?"

Riley shook her head.

"That makes you incredibly compassionate," Steve continued. "And truly compassionate people rarely, rarely ever hurt others. They weren't able to make you hurt Charlie, and they're not going to make you hurt anyone else. We're going to get answers, and figure this out, but I believe that you're stronger than anything they've done to you, Riley."

"Do you really believe that?" she whispered.

"Yes," Steve said firmly. "I absolutely believe that." He squeezed her shoulder. "Let's go inside, yeah? I need to give myself a tetanus shot."

Riley's head shot up at that, and she grabbed Steve's arm and looked at the small puncture marks. "These look almost human . . . did a little kid bite you?"

"A tiny little primate," Steve laughed. "Which has now been returned to its natural habitat, giving Danny yet one more thing to rant about."

Riley laughed.

"There we go," Steve said, smiling back at her. "That's better. You okay?"

She shrugged. "Not really," she said honestly. "But I'm better. Fielding needs to . . . he can't do that. He can't try to satisfy his curiousity like I'm some science project."

"I think he gets that now," Steve said, wrapping his arm around her as they walked together toward the house.

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the evening passed in relative tranquility, although Fielding kept a studious distance from Riley, after making a profuse apology. Joe cooked a simple meal of steamed rice and vegetables, and Steve smiled at Riley tucking into the food with enthusiasm, holding her bowl and chopsticks with complete ease.

"She's more relaxed here than I've seen her since we brought her back from North Korea," Steve observed to Joe, quietly.

"The style of the house, the shape of the dishes . . . everything about this place is more familiar to her," Joe said. "I think Mokoto knew it would be, when he left her the house."

"I want her to be able to enjoy it," Steve said, "not feel like it's an exile. She's terrified that she's going to hurt someone. We have to find answers, Joe. We have to figure out how to undo whatever it is that Shelburne has done to her."

"We will, Steve, I swear it," Joe said.

Steve studied him for a long moment. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to leave her here today?" he asked quietly, looking down at the beer that he'd snagged as he and Joe had left the kitchen and gone out to the porch. "I was afraid . . ."

"You were afraid you'd come back and we would have taken her, or hurt her?" Joe guessed.

"Yeah, to be honest," Steve said.

Joe nodded his head slowly. "I understand, Steve," he said. "I betrayed your trust. I hope that at some point it does become obvious that my intentions were good. I really was convinced that I was protecting you, you know."

"I think I believe that," Steve said. "I believe it of you. I don't believe it of her."

"Of your mother," Joe clarified.

"Right. I don't believe her intentions were every honorable, in regards to Riley," Steve said. "Am I wrong?"

Joe sighed. "You're not wrong, Steve. I'm sorry. I wish I could say honestly that you're wrong, but I'd be lying."

"I would have known you were lying, Joe," Steve said wearily. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that my mother . . . that our mother . . . God, Joe, what was she doing? What was she thinking?"

"That, I can't tell you," Joe said. "I don't think I want to know."


	20. Classified 4

Another storm was brewing - unusual for this time of year, but then again, storms seemed so much more common at the higher elevation. The clouds were dark and lightning was starting to flash in the distance.

Dinner was long finished and cleaned up. Steve had checked Fielding's bandages and changed them, declaring the wounds to be healing as expected. Riley had watched with curious detachment, and slipped out of the room quietly. By the time she returned, hair damp from a shower, and wearing the soft flannel sleep pants and tshirt that Renee had selected for her, both Fielding and Joe had turned in for the night.

Steve was still putting away the medical supplies when Riley padded into the comfortable study.

"Can you take these stitches out of my arm?" she asked, curling into the sofa and extending her arm.

"They can't possibly be -" Steve broke off, looking in disbelief at her arm. The deep gash, which had been stitched, torn open, and restitched, was almost healed.

"I guess this is my circus trick," Riley said, shrugging. "I can tell, by looking at Fielding's stitches, that mine are healing much faster."

"Yeah," Steve said, rubbing the back of his head, "that would be an understatement. Okay, let's get those out." He carefully cut each stitch with suture scissors and gently pulled the stitches out with a pair of fine-tip forceps.

Riley flexed her fingers and rotated her arm, relieved to be rid of the distracting line of sutures.

"Thanks," she said. "Where did you learn all the medical stuff?"

"BUD/s training," Steve explained. "All SEALs are extensively trained as field medics. We never know when we're going to have to take care of one of our team, or a civilian, or a person of interest."

"Joe never taught me any of this," Riley said quietly. "I guess I was just supposed to inflict damage, not heal it."

"Hey," Steve said, tucking his hand under her chin and turning her face up to his. "You can ask Joe, tomorrow, why he neglected this part of your training. In the meantime, let's get started."

"Really?" she asked, smiling and pleased.

"Yes, really," he answered. "First, we start with simple lacerations . . . "

They spent the next hour in basic field aid, until Riley was yawning and blinking slowly.

"Okay, that's enough for tonight," Steve declared firmly. "You need to go get some sleep."

She nodded slowly, clearly trying to get up the nerve to ask Steve a question.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he prompted.

"Is there a way to lock my door, from the outside?" she asked, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.

"I don't know," Steve answered. "Why?"

"I want you to find a way to lock my door. From the outside. So I can't get out at night," Riley said.

"Riley -" Steve started, but stopped when she looked up at him, her eyes full of misery.

"Please," she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, cradling her head against his shoulder.

"Okay," he mumbled into her ear. "Okay; but just until we figure some stuff out, and you feel better about things."

A short while later, Steve stood outside her bedroom door, reluctantly latching the simple slide bolt that he'd retrieved from the supplies in his truck. Joe had heard the quiet whir of tools and come out from his room and helped; without question or comment, his eyes filled with remorse. When they finished, Joe put his hand flat against the door.

"Good night, Riley," he said. "I hope you sleep well."

"Night, Joe," she replied. "Night, Steve." Her voice sounded small.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the door. Joe hesitantly placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, and when Steve didn't shake him off, squeezed sympathetically.

"I'll stay up a shift," Joe said quietly. "Go get some rest, son."

The familiar term of endearment slipped out, and Joe waited for Steve to lash out at him, as he had the last time. But Steve just nodded absently.

Joe watched him walk the few steps to his room, shoulders uncharacteristically hunched with fatigue and concern. It appeared that he was slowly rebuilding some of the shattered trust between himself and his younger protege. Joe sighed, knowing that if he was to truly earn back Steve's trust and respect, he was going to have to reveal more painful secrets . . . before Steve and Riley found out from other sources.

Shaking his head ruefully, Joe went to the kitchen to fix some tea. He was glad he'd offered to take the first shift . . . sleep would not come to him tonight, even if he tried.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley was once again up the next morning, fixing tea, when Steve made his way into the kitchen.

"Did you sleep?" he asked, concerned. It was early, even by SEAL standards.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Mostly. Joe unlocked my door right at sunrise. Tea?"

Steve nodded in her direction, and she fixed two cups. They took their cups out to the porch, hands wrapped around the warmth. Steve settled into a chair, but Riley paced back and forth at the railing.

"What's wrong?" Steve prompted.

Riley sighed and shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "Just restless, I guess."

Steve pondered for a moment, then broke into a smile. "I have just the thing for that."

#*#*#*#*#

"The package came?" Steve asked, as Jerry opened his front door and motioned him inside.

"Yeah, arrived late yesterday afternoon," Jerry said, handing Steve a small box, wrapped discretely in brown paper. "I've never accepted a package hand delivered from the US Navy before," Jerry added, slightly awed. "Someone drove here from Pearl, said that Catherine wanted to get something into your hands, asked if they could leave it here. You might have warned me."

"Sorry, Jerry," Steve said. "I'll give you the heads up next time."

"You promise you won't have to kill me?" Jerry fretted, as Steve helped him load the last of the computer equipment into the back of the Silverado. "Can you tell me what's in the package?"

"I won't have to kill you," Steve answered, smothering a smile. Jerry was dead serious. "And inside that package is the most secure satellite link available."

"Then this is the coolest thing I have done in a long time," Jerry said, climbing into the truck. "Possibly ever. How's Riley? How's her arm? I was wondering, if we got her one of those survival suits, you know, the reflective ones, like people wear in forest fire situations, if that could possibly block the transmission . . . "

On the drive back up to Mokoto's - no, actually, _Riley's_ house, Steve reminded himself - Steve let Jerry's ramblings wash over him. He'd learned well in his years of Naval Intelligence not to dismiss any idea, no matter how unlikely, and he was an expert at letting his brain filter through it on a subconscious level. It wouldn't surprise him if something of significance came back to him in the middle of the night. Jerry might be a conspiracy theorist with an active imagination . . . but he was brilliant. And if ever there was a situation that Jerry could make sense of, while the rest of them stood scratching their heads, this was it.

The immediate concern, however, was a well-deserved distraction for Riley, who had only been told that Steve was coming back with a surprise for her.

As his truck rumbled up the loose stone drive, Riley appeared on the front porch, peering curiously into the passenger seat, and grinning widely when she recognized Jerry.

He got out of the truck, eyes wide at the sight of the Japanese style house, tucked away into the dense foliage. Riley bounded down the stairs and toward him, and he wrapped her in a big hug, lifting her feet gently off the ground.

Fielding and Joe had both come out, and while Joe smiled at the sight, Fielding looked completely confused.

"Who is this?" he asked. "Is this the computer guy?"

"Yes," Joe answered, "and apparently, Riley's first friend, outside of Five-O. They do make an unlikely pair, don't they?"

Fielding shook his head. "She wasn't supposed to make friends. It's dangerous; for her, and for them. That's why Shelburne kept her isolated. You went off the reservation; went behind the scenes and allowed her to go to the university. That was the beginning of the end."

Steve had quietly joined them, and put a calming hand on Joe's shoulder, as he reacted to Fielding's words as if he'd been physically struck.

"No," Steve said firmly, "the beginning of the end was when _Shelburne_ " - he spat out the name - "and crew decided to play God with my sister's life. That was the beginning, and I will damn well see to the end. And _you_ ," he added, jabbing a sharp finger into Fielding's chest, mindless of his injury, "would do well to remember your position at this point. Shelburne wants you dead. Don't make me agree with that sentiment."

Fielding wisely retreated back into the house, leaving Joe and Steve together.

"He's right, you know," Joe said quietly. "Maybe she would have been better off, safer, had I not interfered. I thought . . . I really did think that I could find a way to get her out, distract WoFat, somehow salvage all of this. I'm as guilty of playing God as Doris, and you have every right to be as angry with me as you are with her."

Steve flinched at the use of his mother's given name; it was easier, somehow, to keep her boxed up behind the wall of a code name.

"I am angry with you, Joe," Steve said honestly. "But I also appreciate that you're trying to do the right thing now. I just hope my willingness to trust you, to some extent, isn't completely misplaced."

"And I intend to prove that to you, Steve," Joe said. He hesitated, prompting Steve to look at him closely, sensing that there was more on his mind. "There are some things that I need to tell you, and Riley. And I will; I promise. But not today, not with Jerry here. Speaking of, why is Jerry here?" Joe smiled down at the sight before them, of Jerry and Riley gathering up loads of equipment.

"Jerry is here because Riley is restless and anxious, and I suspect this is starting to feel like an exile, a punishment," Steve explained. "And she needs a friend right now."

Jerry and Riley were making their way up the stairs, and Riley paused next to Steve. Her hands were full, but she stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, smiling.

"You're welcome," Steve said. He pointed to a bag in her hand. "What's in the grocery bag? I didn't load that."

"Hot Pockets and Red Bull," Riley said. "They're amazing. Seriously."

Steve shook his head and chuckled as Riley and Jerry disappeared inside the house.

Within the hour, Riley and Jerry were ensconced in front of an impressive array of laptops and keyboards. Steve made a mental note to arrange for some larger screens to be delivered, but aside from that, the two looked happy as clams.

"You're sure this is completely secure?" Riley asked nervously. "I would never forgive myself if anyone, especially Jerry, was put in danger."

"Catherine supervised the encryption herself," Steve said. "It's as secure as the highest capability of US Naval Intelligence can make it, for starters, and then between you and Jerry . . . I doubt even our best guys could hack it. Just . . . please promise me that you aren't going to launch any nukes." He was only half teasing.

"We actually thought we'd enjoy some gaming," Jerry offered. He'd gladly followed up on the favor Steve had asked of them on the drive up - give Riley something, anything, to think about, other than Shelburne.

Fielding came quickly out of the kitchen, having overheard their conversation.

"Don't play anything that you played before," he said urgently.

"I know; even if I create a new account, players will recognize my style of play. Besides, it was all monitored," Riley said. "By Shelburne."

"You knew?" Fielding asked, shocked.

"No, not at the time," Riley said. "But it makes perfect sense. Joe thought he had managed to safely hide me at the University of Tokyo, but he hadn't, had he? Shelburne knew exactly where I was. What better way to gather data than by closely observing a video game, right? What did it tell you, Fielding?"

Fielding was silent for a moment. "It was used to collect data on hand-eye coordination, mental processing speed, and even emotional responses. You routinely sacrificed yourself, in the games, to protect others that were classified as innocents."

"Hmm, and why was that significant?" Riley asked.

"It frustrated Shelburne and Garrison," Fielding said. "That behavior was outside the parameters of your programming." Fielding stopped short and held up his hand, as anger flashed in Steve and Riley's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize, until I said it out loud . . . for what it's worth, Riley, I always admired that quality. You have to understand; I hadn't met you. You were a series of charts and a flow of data. But even then, I admired that, and I think on some level I was always secretly cheering for you when you went against the expectations of the program."

"Yeah, well maybe the McGarrett DNA is stronger than they realized," Riley said, leaning into Steve who had instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as if to protect her, somehow, from Fielding's words.

Steve dropped an affectionate kiss to the top of Riley's head, and tousled her hair. "McGarrett stubbornness is pretty legendary, too," he said. "Okay, don't take over any small nations or take over the stock exchange, you two."

He nodded discreetly to Joe and Fielding, who followed him into the study while Riley and Jerry settled in to create a brand new online persona for Riley, in a game she'd never played.

"Maybe I can at least beat you the first round," they heard Jerry comment, as they left the room.

Steve looked at Joe and Fielding as he sat down at the desk and pulled out a laptop that he had secured at Jerry's. "Okay, we need a plan. Our first priority is to somehow, safely, find a way to . . . to turn off, or disable, or eliminate this tracking and monitoring, and, God help us, potential control, that Shelburne has over Riley. I know the science was kept compartmentalized, but I want to know everything - absolutely everything - that the both of you know. Start with every physical location of every base of operation that Shelburne ever used. If we have to, we'll burn each of them to the ground until we find them."

Fielding and Joe began to try to recall every detail possible, while Steve listened intently, typing out details into his laptop. It was time to put his Naval Intelligence training and education to the test.

#*#*#*#*#

The three men were engrossed in trying to piece together the details of the situation, hours slipping away unnoticed, and the sun was considerably lower in the sky when they heard Jerry's shout from the main living space.

"Riley?! Guys, I need -"

Steve was the first to reach them, dropping to his knees beside Riley, as Jerry stood back in alarm.

"What is it, Steve?" Joe asked urgently.

"She's seizing," Steve said, as Riley's eyes rolled back and she jerked violently.

Joe started pulling furniture out of the way quickly, Jerry helping him, so that Riley wouldn't injure herself. Steve knelt helplessly next to her, resisting the urge to gather her in his arms and try to hold her tight, relying instead on his SEAL medic training and following protocol. It seemed to go on forever, and Steve found himself fighting back tears as he could only watch and wait, keeping one hand loosely on her shoulder, and keeping up a steady litany of soothing words, hoping she could hear him.

"Riley, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm right here, you're going to be okay," he said.

Joe ran to the Silverado and returned with the well-equipped military issue medic bag, just as Riley finally, blessedly, stopped seizing. He dropped the bag next to Steve.

"Is she breathing?" Joe asked, his own training kicking in, knowing that airway and circulation needed to be confirmed immediately.

Steve crouched over Riley, his cheek over her nose and mouth, as Joe felt for a pulse.

"Yeah, she's breathing," Steve said, relieved. "Pulse?"

"Steady, and strong," Joe said, shaking his head, "but unbelievably fast. Feel for yourself."

Steve raised his eyebrows curiously at Joe, and pressed his own fingers into Riley's carotid.

"Shit, Joe," he said in alarm. "That's not sustainable. Her heart's going to explode."

"No, it won't," Fielding said quietly, kneeling down next to Joe. "May I?" he asked, and Steve nodded, giving him permission to replace Joe's frantic fingers with his own. "It's fast, yes, but her physiology can handle it. It's one of the things that's enhanced. Her heart can keep up with incredible amounts of exertion."

"Like when she was able to walk up the mountain to the monks, like it was nothing," Steve said. "That's because her heart rate can increase as needed?"

"Yes, much as yours can, to an extent, due to your physical conditioning," Fielding explained. "Hers can, even without conditioning."

"That's why she was capable far beyond my expectations as a teenager," Joe guessed.

"Okay," Steve said, turning his attention back to Riley, who seemed to be unconscious, her muscles still spasming and twitching, "what caused this, and what do we do? Do I try to slow her heartbeat? I can give her a beta blocker, but I don't know that what I would use in the field applies to her." He scooped her up off the floor and placed her gently on the sofa. Jerry silently handed him a blanket, which he placed loosely over her.

Fielding was glancing around the room, and stopped, tilting his head curiously at several cans of Red Bull, scattered among the computer equipment. He grabbed one - empty - and held it up to Jerry.

"Did she drink any of these?" he demanded.

"Just one," Jerry said, holding out his hands defensively.

Fielding pondered for a moment; pulling pieces together in his mind. "Okay, so back at the cannery, when we were monitoring her vitals . . . we made a clear connection between the moment that the Shelburne programming integrated with her central nervous system, to the time that she flatlined."

"Yeah," Steve said, trying to remember the exact details. "She flatlined from loss of blood volume; even though they were replacing it, it wasn't fast enough."

"They restarted her heart," Joe added. "But not by shocking her - with epinephrine. The programming, the tracking - it integrated with her central nervous system because of a chemical catalyst, the epinephrine."

Fielding looked at the innocuous can of Red Bull in his hand. "Caffeine . . . " he said slowly. "Epinephrine is essentially adrenaline. Caffeine mimics the effects of adrenaline. A chemical catalyst . . . "

"If a chemical catalyst works one way," Steve wondered out loud.

"Could it work to reverse . . . " Joe said, picking up his train of thought.

#*#*#*#*#

Garrison paced in front of the monitors, pulling frantically at his hair.

"We're losing the connection," he shouted, mindless of the spittle flying from his mouth and landing on the hapless technicians seated in front of him. "The brain activity is off the charts. What the hell is going on?"

Shelburne stood at the back of the room, her arms crossed, calmly surveying the screens, the frantic director, and the technicians whose fingers were flying over their keyboards.

"It's a seizure," she said. "It's already stopped, everything will be fine."

"Not if we lose the programming," Garrison argued. "What if they've figured something out?"

"I want alarms on the tracking," Shelburne said. "If they move, we go physically retrieve the subject. In the meantime, this data is priceless. Look at it."

Garrison calmed. He did love the data; the stream of information, the undulating gamma and beta waves, the scrolling of binary numbers which translated into heartrate, respiration. He let himself be soothed by the steady flow which he could interpret as fast as it appeared.

"The subject is unconscious," he observed. "Highly suggestible in this state."

Shelburne smiled in agreement. "Yes, that's very true. Very highly suggestible."

"We shouldn't let this opportunity go to waste," Garrison said, slipping into his chair and caressing his keyboard. He pulled up a series of photos. "Where shall we begin?"

He flicked through the photos, slowly, until Shelburne spoke.

"With him. Let's begin with him," she said, as the photo of Steve McGarrett filled the screen.


	21. Classified 5

A/N: A few bits and pieces of actual biology and technology were researched and referenced; but mostly, the science fiction elements of this story are very much the figment of my imagination and creative license. Please enjoy accordingly.

#*#*#*#*#

It was amazing, really, what could be accomplished with binary code and satellite signal. Garrison marveled . . . it seemed more magic than science, even to him, one of the foremost experts in the field. The idea that information and instructions could manipulate data and machines, of course, was nothing new . . . but integrate it with a human nervous system, and the possibilities were . . . endless.

He smiled to himself as his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in line after line of code that transmitted images of Steve McGarrett directly into the lateral geniculate nucleus. He had so many images from which to choose . . . these images, of him undercover . . . these would do nicely. The images would be streaming rapidly now. Excellent.

Garrison turned to a second computer. Time to send his nanorobotic army into the subject's amygdala. It was a thing of beauty, really, how the one-step process of stimulating the fear center of the brain in turn released the norepinephrine, adrenaline, and cortisol which made the subject feel yet more fear. On to the parietal lobe . . . pain was easy to stimulate in the presence of fear. It was a beautiful closed circuit.

Shelburne watched in satisfaction as the incoming data stream revealed the desired results . . . heartrate and respiration were elevated; fear hormone readings were off the chart . . . it took mere moments to establish an inexplicable, irrevocable association between the images of Steve McGarrett and pain and fear.

"Do you want me to imply an instruction?" Garrison asked. "A reaction? As we did with Charlie Fong?"

"No, not yet," Shelburne murmured. "I just want to collect the data when Riley wakes up. I want to see what her own response is, first." She sighed. "I only wish we could collect data on him, as well. It would be fascinating." She studied the lines of data stream; she couldn't read it as effortlessly as Garrison. She pointed to a line that spiked irregularly. "What is this?"

Garrison studied it for a moment. "There seems to be some damage to the bilateral amygdala; probably from the seizure."

"And?" Shelburne asked impatiently. "What does that mean?"

"The subject may have difficulty distinguishing between anger and fear," Garrison shrugged. "Not really relevant to our purposes, unless there is a violent response."

"Hmmm, that would be interesting as well," Shelburne said. "Is the damage extensive? Permanent?"

"Impossible to tell, right now," Garrison said. "I'll be sure to monitor it."

Shelburne continued to watch the information stream across the screen. "You were never meant to find her," she murmured to herself. "You'll wish now you never had."

#*#*#*#*#

"How do we wake her up?" Jerry asked anxiously. "Shouldn't she wake up?"

Steve had rolled Riley gently onto her side and was continuing to monitor her breathing and heartbeat. "We don't," he said kindly to Jerry, brushing Riley's hair out of her face. "She should wake up on her own, but it's not unusual for someone to take a while to regain consciousness."

"I didn't mean to make her sick," Jerry said.

"You couldn't have known," Fielding said. "None of us did. She might be getting increasingly sensitive, since epinephrine was administered at the hospital. The usefulness of epinephrine in cardiac treatment is questionable, anyway; largely because of longterm side effects. They probably shouldn't have given it to her; who knows how it affected her technology?"

Joe put a hand on Steve's shoulder as he looked up sharply at Fielding. "Her _technology_?" Steve spat. "They should have just let her heart stop beating, so as not to interfere with her _technology_?"

"You really have no comprehension of the value of the science -" Fielding started, before Joe cut him off with a withering glance.

Riley stirred, a low sound escaping her. Her hand twitched under Steve's.

"Hey," Steve said softly, kneeling on the sofa next to her. "Riley? Are you okay?"

He could see her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, her eyelashes twitching a bit.

"Riley, can you open your eyes for me?" Steve asked gently. "Are you ready to wake up?"

Her eyes fluttered open and locked on Steve's.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. He reached toward her, slowly, to brush her hair back again. She shrank back from him, whimpering; her eyes were filled with terror, the pupils dilated unnaturally.

"No," she whispered, looking around frantically. "No, don't . . . please . . . "

"It's okay," Steve said, glancing up at Joe with a worried expression on his face. That proved to be a mistake: in the split second his attention was diverted, Riley tried to launch herself away from him, succeeding in slipping past him, but just - her heart still racing dangerously, and her balance wrecked, she collapsed just steps from the sofa.

Steve turned and reached for her. "Riley, hey, it's okay -" he was cut off short as Riley cried out in fear, and swept her leg out, catching him just at the knees and taking him down. He hit the floor hard, rolling to try to avoid landing on top of her.

Jerry was on the floor, kneeling in front of Riley, with a speed and grace that surprised the others.

"Riley," he said quietly, his huge frame looming in front of her, blocking her view of everyone else in the room. "You're scaring me."

She stilled immediately, her slim frame still visibly shaking, and looked at Jerry, her eyes huge and almost black. She sat up, hugging her arms around her knees.

"I'm afraid you're going to hurt someone," Jerry continued, speaking softly to her.

To their amazement, she reached out a trembling hand and touched his hair, patting his head weakly. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she said, her voice raspy. "I don't," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself and the rest of them.

"I know that," Jerry answered, "but something is wrong, and you might, without meaning to. Let's just sit here a minute, okay, until you feel better, and then we'll try to figure out what's going on."

Riley nodded, still focused completely on Jerry.

"This is hurting my knees, so I'm gonna sit next to you, if that's okay," Jerry said, smiling at her.

"Jerry," Fielding said suddenly, "don't move until we get out of the room. Stay right where you are."

Jerry glanced back over his shoulder, curious, but did as he was told and stayed put, continuing to block Riley's line of vision while he heard the others move quickly back into the study, Steve protesting quietly.

"She was unconscious for a significant amount of time," Fielding said, taking Steve forcefully by the shoulders and demanding his full attention. "And Shelburne and Garrison more than likely saw the seizure happen in real time."

Joe nodded as realization struck. "Loss of consciousness . . . her brain activity itself compromised . . . you're saying they would have taken advantage of the opportunity?"

"The opportunity . . . " Steve repeated, his mind filling with dread as he followed their line of thinking.

"They got to her, somehow, and convinced her . . . " Fielding said, hesitating. "They've somehow altered her perception of you."

"Like Charlie?" Steve asked, pinching the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. This was too much to process. "They want her to take me out?"

"If she was really trying to take you out, Steve, she wouldn't have stopped with a sweep to the knees," Joe said, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "I trained her myself, I can promise you that. She was trying to get away from you."

Fielding nodded. "From where I was standing, that's certainly what it looked like, although we can't take any chances."

"So they've managed to make her terrified of me," Steve said dully.

"And likely created a significant pain response," Fielding added. "The established protocol was to link the pain and fear centers; it makes the subject easier to manipulate, as the violent pain response negates the likelihood of resistance to suggestion." His voice was filled with disgust and regret. "God help me, I was part of the program that did this."

"What now?" Steve asked, his voice hoarse with restrained emotion. "What can we do?"

"Well, just before she started waking up, we were discussing the idea of a chemical catalyst," Fielding reminded them.

"Yeah, the epi they gave her at the hospital to restart her heart," Steve said. "You thought that might have been what triggered the fancy show and tell technology to integrate with her central nervous system."

"That's my best guess, based on what I did pick up from the science end of things," Fielding said. "They did keep things compartmentalized, and my role was primarily to orchestrate - sorry - playing agents and agencies against each other in this shell game. But I know there are chemical catalysts and mechanical catalysts."

"She tried to pull the delivery device out of her arm," Steve remembered, "and the nurses did recover something hollow. But she was still convinced that Shelburne was 'watching'. She said she could feel it."

"Okay, think back," Fielding said, somewhat excited about the science of it all, he couldn't help himself. "That would have activated the central nervous system integration. Something before that would have activated the original system. Think."

Steve paced around in the study for a moment. "When we first got her back from WoFat . . . he'd waterboarded her and shocked her with a damn cattle prod. She stopped breathing, her heart stopped . . . in the ambulance. They used a defibrillator."

"Mechanical catalyst," Joe murmured.

"Oh my God," Fielding mumbled, horrified. He stumbled to the edge of the desk, falling to his knees and retching into the trash can.

"What, what is it?" Steve demanded.

"I gave WoFat the device. The original device. I gave it to WoFat's handler."

Steve and Joe looked at Fielding in horror as he continued.

"The Special Activities Division . . . Shelburne . . . was controlling both the Shelburne project and WoFat. WoFat knew he was cooperating with the SAD, had been for a long time - with the promise that the SAD would help him find Shelburne. But Garrison was his contact in the SAD, working under direct order of Shelburne. I was in contact with WoFat's handler," Fielding said. He stopped, dry heaved again into the wastebasket. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued. "Shelburne knew that Joe had gone off the reservation, and was working independently to try to bring WoFat down so that Riley could come out of hiding, which would of course inevitably have meant that Joe could bring Riley to you."

Steve glanced at Joe, remembering Riley's comment that Joe seemed almost afraid. No wonder.

"Garrison was feeding WoFat information; they knew, somehow, where Joe had taken her. They used WoFat . . . I didn't know. I thought it was just a tracking device. I didn't have all of the pieces," Fielding said. "When she started working with Five-O, and there was the museum incident . . . that's when they started acting like mad scientists; pushing the limits, collecting the data."

"That's when you started questioning the program," Steve said. "And eventually followed in Joe's footsteps and refused to participate."

"Yes," Fielding said. "But the original device . . . I understood, at the time, so much time, so much planning, so much effort. Technology beyond . . . I thought Shelburne just wanted to be able to keep track of Riley's location . . . I didn't know. When you knew I had your Five-O computer bugged, and you knew we were monitoring . . . the day WoFat had Riley, you asked me to tip him off, get him to flee, hoping that was your chance to save Riley. We were all being played by Shelburne. Of course WoFat would leave Riley behind, he'd placed the device, probably with promises that he'd have access to the tracking."

"Could he have access to the tracking?" Joe asked.

Fielding shook his head. "No way. Shelburne would have lied; she never would have given WoFat that much control. But he would have willingly placed the device, if he thought that Riley could eventually lead him to Shelburne." Fielding paused. "And no doubt, he was given a tidy sum of money to cooperate," he added bitterly.

Fielding stopped again, closed his eyes as a wave of nausea passed over him, the full implications of his actions crashing down on him. "WoFat placed the device, and probably activated it with the cattle prod. If that wasn't sufficient, the defibrillator would have been."

"If Shelburne has been tracking Riley's location all this time, why hasn't she made a move?" Steve demanded. All of this bordered on the unbelievable, as far as he was concerned.

"Because Riley's not a person, not to Shelburne, and Garrison, and the rest," Fielding said. "She's a project. And she's still yielding interesting data. The project has stages; it was after WoFat that they started collecting basic data; it was after the museum that she started exhibiting the accelerated healing; it was after Charlie that the system integrated - they're just beginning to be able to see the full scope of the program."

"And in the meantime, WoFat is more motivated than ever to reclaim Riley," Joe added, "knowing that Riley was used to double-cross him."

"It's a perfect closed circuit, with Riley caught in the middle," Fielding said tiredly.

"We have to stop it," Steve said, pacing again. "It has to stop. No other priority right now, but to somehow break this . . . connection, this control that Shelburne has over Riley. You have to know something, Fielding. We know there's chemical and mechanical catalysts involved to set off these different stages. If these things can start it, can they stop it? That's where we were going with this conversation to begin with."

"It's possible," Fielding said. "There are failsafes built in. I know that much. Chemical and mechanical failsafes, to crash the whole system. But my understanding was that was worst case scenario; doomsday plans. When they said they could crash the whole system, I think they meant . . . "

"Terminate," Joe said. "They have an option to terminate."

"Yes," Fielding said.

"Okay, what's the next stage?" Steve demanded. "You think the original device was activated by electricity; the second stage, the integration, you think was activated by the epi. What's the next stage?"

"That's it," Fielding said, and Steve sighed in relief. He couldn't have imagined another stage that didn't involve catastrophic damage. "I mean, it's nanotechnology; so theoretically, all of her enhancements should continue to progress, to some extent."

"Meaning?" Joe said, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Meaning, she'll continue to get a little faster, a little stronger; just not at the exponential rate we've seen this far. That's why the original genetic enhancements had to take place," Fielding explained. "She had to be genetically, physically capable. Her physical DNA had to be carefully constructed to be able to keep up with what the nanotechnology could do."

Steve stared at Fielding. "So, physically, she could withstand . . . " he drifted off in thought. Pieces were coming together; ultimately, this was a code, an algorithm, and he was pulling from every bit of his training in Naval Intelligence to solve it.

Fielding picked up the train of thought. "Mechanical and chemical catalysts . . . physically, she can survive what we couldn't. It would be a risk, but . . . if you're thinking what I'm thinking, it's our only shot."

Joe looked at both of them in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow. I'm not sure I want to follow."

"Massive. Massive chemical and mechanical catalysts," Fielding said. "If that's what initiates the technology, that has to be what destroys it."

"Without destroying Riley in the process?" Joe asked, quietly.

Steve was silent for a long moment, looking out to where Jerry sat, his arm around Riley's shoulders, apparently keeping up a running litany of nonsense to distract her.

"Shelburne is destroying her, right in front of us, right this minute," Steve said. "We have to try." He turned to Joe and Fielding. "Not here; we can't possibly do it here, it's not safe. We have to get her to Tripler. I'll call, have them set up a secure wing, get us a team that's been vetted."

"Okay," Joe said. "But we need to figure out where we stand with her; what the extent of the manipulation is. We need to know which of us can safely interact with her. Jerry, obviously."

Fielding nodded. "One at a time, we go out. It seems obvious that they've somehow manipulated her impression of Steve. I'll go first, then Joe. Then Steve."

With that, Fielding stepped cautiously out of the study. "Jerry," he said quietly. "We think we have some ideas. Can you hang tight right where you are? Riley, I want you to try to understand that what you think you see and feel . . . it might be very confusing, and very frightening, but I want you to understand that no one here is going to hurt you. Do you understand that? You are safe here. No matter how you feel, the reality is that you are safe. Can you try to hang on to that for me?"

Riley nodded.

Joe stepped out next. "Riley, we are going to need you to trust us. I know that I'm the last person who has the right to ask that of you. Can you tell me, though, who is the one person that you trust, implicitly? The one person who's earned it, completely." He paused. "Besides your friend Jerry, there," he added, smiling.

"Steve," Riley answered, without hesitation.

"Yes," Joe nodded. "You can trust Steve completely. You know that. That's reality, Riley. I want you to hang on to that, okay? You are smarter, much smarter, and even stronger than they give you credit for; and I want you to hang on to the reality that you can trust Steve. No matter what; no matter what you might feel, the reality is that you can trust Steve. Got it?"

Riley nodded again, confused.

Joe motioned, and Steve stepped out of the study, into Riley's line of vision. He looked at her hopefully; maybe the whole thing had just been a reaction of confusion, coming out of a seizure, and regaining consciousness.

Riley gasped, her hands flying to the sides of her head, and she made a heart-wrenching keening sound, low in her throat. Jerry's arm tightened comfortingly around her shoulder as her feet scrambled for purchase on the smooth floor, trying desperately to back away from Steve.

"Riley, it's really okay, I promise," Jerry whispered.

"No, please . . . please, I can't . . . please," Riley choked out, hiding her face in the crook of Jerry's neck. "Make it stop . . . please make it stop."

"Make what stop, Riley?" Joe asked, standing helplessly next to Steve.

"It hurts . . . I don't understand . . . " Her shoulders began to shake in silent sobs against Jerry.

"Riley," Steve said, his voice wrecked with pain. To their surprise, she stilled a bit.

Fielding grinned. "Well, damn," he said quietly. "I guess they didn't have any audio files. Try talking to her," he instructed Steve quietly, motioning to Jerry to keep Riley's face tucked away.

As Jerry awkwardly patted the back of Riley's head, Steve tried talking to her again.

"Riley, you had a seizure, and while you were unconscious, we think that -" he stumbled over the words 'our mother' and then continued, "that Shelburne tried to manipulate you, like with Charlie. But remember what Joe said: you're smarter, and stronger. You can trust me, Riley, I swear to it, no matter what your mind is telling you. Try to hang on to that. I love you, Riley," he said, his voice breaking, "I love you, and we have an idea of how we can begin to fix this, but you're going to have to trust us, okay?"

Riley nodded, and Steve turned to go back into the study to make calls.

"Steve?" she called out, keeping her face hidden in Jerry's shoulder.

He paused; she sounded so young, so frightened. "Yeah, honey?" he said, his voice betraying how much this was killing him.

"Remember your promise," she said. "No matter what, remember that I trust you. I trust you to keep your promise."

"Riley," Steve said, leaning against the door of the study. "Riley, I -"

"You promised!" she shouted, struggling to turn around, to look at him regardless . . ." Jerry wrapped both arms around her as she began to sob quietly again.

"Okay, Riley," Steve said, "Okay. I remember. I promise." He stepped into the study, stumbled to the desk, and leaned on it, hands in a white knuckle grip on the edge.

Joe stood quietly next to him, his hand wrapped around the back of Steve's neck.

"What the hell was that about, son?" he asked quietly.

Steve rubbed fiercely at his eyes. "She made me promise to take her out, rather than let her hurt anyone," he said. "I promised her, because I assumed I'd always be able to just . . . just stop her, overpower her. But God help me, Joe, I promised her, and she's going to hold me to it."

Joe put his other hand over Steve's on the desk, lending him what he could of his solid strength, sending up silent and fervent thanks that Steve was allowing him this small gesture of support and comfort. "Then we'll keep that promise, Steve; we'll keep that promise by figuring out how to get her away from Shelburne, once and for all. Okay?"

Steve nodded. "Okay, Joe. Okay." He took a shaky breath. "I'm calling Catherine to help set up a team at Tripler. I don't trust anyone else to vet them. Can you call Danny? I don't know what to tell them . . . just . . ."

"I've got it, Steve," Joe said. Before they each reached for their phones, Joe put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve," he said, "we're going to keep your promise to Riley, and I'm going to keep my promise to your father. I'm going to do everything in my power to help you, son. You have my word."


	22. Catalyst 1

"How are you feeling now?" Jerry whispered, as he continued to sit quietly with Riley. "Do you want to move anywhere?" He patted her hand gently.

Riley considered that for a moment. She felt as though her head was going to explode, and every nerve in her body was firing and misfiring. But maybe Jerry was uncomfortable . . . "Do you need to move?" she asked.

"No, I'm good," Jerry said.

"I think if I move I might throw up," Riley admitted.

Jerry sat remarkably still at that revelation. After a few moments, his curiousity started to get the better of him.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered. He wasn't entirely sure why he was whispering, aside from the fact that Riley seemed to be very quiet and pale.

"Yes," Riley answered.

"When you see Steve, what do you feel?" Jerry asked. "You don't have to answer that," he added quickly.

"Fear . . . terror," Riley murmured, "and pain."

"Where? Where is the pain?"

"Everywhere, at once," Riley admitted, in a whisper.

"But it's okay, you can talk to him, right; you can hear his voice, and that's okay?" Jerry asked.

Riley was silent.

"Riley? That's okay, hearing him, right?" Jerry prompted.

"I can . . . manage it, just hearing him," Riley said. Her hands were pressing against her temples again.

"Shit," Jerry said, "talking about it, thinking about him . . . is it . . . "

Riley nodded miserably.

"Are you scared, Riley?" Jerry asked, his eyes sad. He'd never seen Riley scared, not once.

"Yes."

"Okay, look at me," Jerry said, gently turning her head toward him. "We're good, yeah? Okay, so I'm going to tell you about my very first epic round of Dungeons and Dragons. It was middle school . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks, Catherine," Steve said quietly, as he sat behind the desk in the study. He could see Joe outside, loading some basic supplies into Steve's truck and the additional SUV.

Her voice came over the phone, steady and sure. "I'll have a team from Pearl go over, Steve. I've been given clearance to approve anything that would aid in bringing WoFat in; keeping Riley safe definitely falls into that category."

Steve struggled to control his emotions. It had been too much to process already, and hearing Catherine's voice was pushing him over the edge.

"What else can I do, Steve?" she asked. "Do you need me to call the team? Call Danny?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Joe called them . . . I don't even know what to tell them, Catherine, I don't want to risk . . . but I can't keep them in the dark on this. Joe said he'd handle it."

Behind her desk, Catherine shook her head in dismay. For Steve to willingly give up any hint of control . . . it spoke volumes as to his state of mind. She made up her mind; she'd be at Tripler when he arrived. It was well within the scope of her orders.

"What else, Steve? Anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Mary is at Barstow Marine base, as far as I know. Maybe put a call in, just check? I don't think WoFat or the SAD would make a play for her, but I'd feel better knowing . . . "

"I'm on it, sailor," Catherine assured him. "Have you already run a background check on the boyfriend?" she asked, guessing quite accurately as to why Mary would be on a Marine base, and what Steve would have done.

"Yeah, he checks out," Steve chuckled. Catherine could read him like a book. "He's a good guy; good Marine."

"Okay, then you focus just on Riley," Catherine said.

Steve was quiet again. "When she looked at me, Catherine . . . I've never seen such pure, unadulterated terror. I can't . . . Catherine, what if we can't . . ."

"Steve. There's going to be a way. We'll find it. If what you and Joe are thinking doesn't work, we'll . . . I don't know. We'll force the CIA to cooperate. We'll go to Tokyo. Something."

"Okay, Cath," Steve said. "I'll keep you posted. Thanks."

"Copy that, Commander."

"Cath -" Steve hesitated. "I want . . . when this is over . . . " He stopped. He wasn't even sure what he wanted or needed to say; just . . . more.

"I know, Steve," Catherine said quietly. "When this is over."

#*#*#*#*#

Jerry and Riley could hear heated conversation coming from the kitchen.

"No, Fielding, you're supposed to be dead," Steve argued. "You have to stay here. We can't risk exposure."

"But I can disable her; render her unconscious if necessary," Fielding argued.

"Oh, now, that's a great idea," Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because things go so well for her when she's unconscious."

"Steve is right," Joe said, stepping in. "Fielding, you have to stay back. Jerry, too. We can't risk a civilian. Steve will drive, I'll ride in the back with Riley. In close quarters, I think I can manage her if things go sideways, and she's fine as long as Steve isn't in her line of vision."

Jerry glanced down at Riley; she had her hands pressed over her ears, trembling. He carefully eased his arm out from where it had stayed, wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, and propped her gently against the wall.

Steve, Joe, and Fielding looked up in surprise when Jerry entered the kitchen. His demeanor had shifted, and suddenly his bulky frame looked less like a teddy bear and more . . . intimidating. Steve was absently impressed, as Jerry pointed viciously toward the back door, and the four men stepped outside.

"She is not fine," Jerry hissed at them. "She is not fine as long as Steve isn't in her line of vision. When you hear someone's voice, you get a mental image of that person. When she hears Steve, she pictures Steve. When she pictures Steve, it's a step away from seeing Steve. When she sees Steve, she experiences inexplicable terror and agonizing pain."

"But I thought -" Fielding started, and broke off, stepping back and flinching as Jerry turned on him.

"Well, you thought wrong," Jerry snapped. "Without the actual visual, she can, so far, maintain some sort of control, but I wouldn't count on that lasting. She is terrified, and in pain, and she's suffering. And you're not taking her to Tripler without me."

Joe and Steve nodded at Jerry, with respect.

"And I don't think she should be in a car with either of you," Jerry added, for good measure. "I think I should drive her."

"I didn't know you could drive," Steve said.

"I'm an excellent driver," Jerry said. "I just choose not to, usually."

Steve smiled a bit; that reminded him so much of Danny choosing not to swim. He sighed . . . he missed his team. What he wouldn't give to have Danny here, and Chin, and Kono . . . but he couldn't risk them, not in this mess.

"Okay, Jerry," Joe was agreeing. "I think you're right. Steve and I will take the truck; you drive Riley in the SUV."

As they moved back inside the house, Steve clapped a hand on Jerry's shoulder. "Thanks, man," he said quietly. "Thanks for looking out for her."

"Thanks for not shooting me," Jerry said. "I'll get her in the SUV; follow you and Commander White to Tripler."

#*#*#*#*#

Fielding was pacing back and forth on the porch, at loose ends, when he heard the explosion. He looked toward the sound, halfway down the mountain, and could just see a tendril of smoke, wafting up over the treeline.

He walked, without hesitation, into Joe's room, and then Steve's, and gathered the backup weapons that they thought they'd so carefully concealed.

Within thirty seconds, he was out the door and headed down the mountain.

#*#*#*#*#

It was as bad as he had feared.

By the time Fielding reached the two mangled vehicles, it was obvious to him that the first strike team had come and gone. If the bullets currently whizzing over his head were any indication, the clean-up team was moving in fast.

He knew exactly what to expect; he'd put the team together, created the protocol.

The Silverado was crossways in the road, tilted at a precarious angle toward the driver's side; the top of the cab resting on a large boulder. One wheel still spun idly, while the gear box in the back spilled its contents onto the road. Fielding headed for it immediately; the truckbed would provide cover, and he knew that McGarrett stored a veritable arsenal in that truck.

He spared a regretful glance toward the SUV, which had sustained extensive damage to the driver's side; probably from an RPG. He wondered if Jerry had survived the initial impact. He doubted it. Steve's SEAL training would probably have demanded that he protect the civilian first; thankfully, that wasn't how CIA training worked. He knew that Steve and Joe were the most valuable assets in this situation. He had to choose, and they had to be his priority.

He didn't bother to look at the passenger side of the SUV; he knew it would be empty.

Hunkering down behind the truck bed, Fielding smiled grimly as he collected a couple of grenades, a box of ammo, and two more guns. His hand hesitated over Steve's diving knife, and he wondered if held under a lab light, if it would still reveal traces of Riley's blood. He grabbed the knife. Riley's blood was on his hands already; a few more traces wouldn't make a difference.

He looked over as a hand reached out of the truck, toward him.

"McGarrett," he said, grabbing Steve's hand, "When you don't show up at Tripler, they'll send people. We've got a clean-up team coming this way, and they mean to kill you. I'm going to draw them off as best as I can, take as many out as I possibly can. If some of them get by me . . . can you still shoot?"

"Affirmative," Steve gasped, feeling for his gun, and coming up with it in his hand. "Riley? Where's Riley?"

"Riley's best chance is me keeping you alive," Fielding answered. He gave Steve's hand a squeeze and moved away, leaving Steve to call after him in confusion. He didn't respond; there was no time.

Moments later, Fielding smiled to himself as the sounds of gunfire had ceased completely. In fact, there were no sounds - no radios, no footsteps, nothing moving toward them at all, thanks to Steve's penchant for keeping live explosives casually in the back of his truck.

He looked around at the beautiful foliage, some of it in full bloom, and wondered idly if Lieutenant Rollins and Detective Williams - he was sure Danny would be bulldogging his way onto the scene, regardless of Steve's instructions - would reach him in time to staunch the flow of blood from his stomach, his leg . . . he'd had to let the clean up team get close enough, close enough to make the grenades count. He'd succeeded; that was all that mattered. Steve and Joe had given him what he hadn't deserved - a chance to redeem himself, in some small way. That was all that mattered.

He closed his eyes to rest.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve heard the rapid staccato of gunfire, and clenched his hand around his SIG. He glanced over at Joe; the seatbelt had him firmly locked into his seat, limbs hanging limply toward Steve. Blood dripped steadily from a cut on his temple, and the spiderweb design of the passenger window was tinged red. His chest moved slightly, and slowly, but he was breathing.

Steve gritted his teeth and unlatched his seatbelt, fighting back the accompanying nausea. He was hopeful that the blood dripping from a gash on his head meant that the nausea was related to a simple concussion, and not internal injuries. A vicious stab from his knife dispatched the airbag, and he shoved it out of his way. He opened the door and it hit the ground with a dull thunk, the metal wedging in the soft earth, and the truck groaned against the rough boulder keeping it from falling flat to the ground. He had just enough room to wriggle through the opening. There was pain - a lot of it - but he shoved it to the back of his mind to deal with later, once he'd located Riley.

Steve instinctively covered his head as a muffled explosion shook the ground near him . . . near enough that some debris showered down within feet of him. He waited a moment, and then there was nothing. Silence. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself off the ground, grabbing the back of the truck as the world spun wildly around him. He looked for the SUV, disoriented, and completely confused when he realized that it was somehow in front of the truck . . . they must have taken out the truck first, and Jerry must have tried to make a run for it. Using the truck as support, he began to make his way back, toward the SUV.

He made it within feet of the SUV . . . close enough to see that Jerry was slumped forward over the steering wheel, close enough to see that the passenger seat was empty . . . before searing pain exploded in his lower back, and he fell to his knees.

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine was pacing in the waiting room at Tripler. A surgical suite had been set aside; a team of doctors directly from Pearl, vetted and screened by Catherine herself, were waiting anxiously to meet Riley and see if any of Steve and Joe's hunches played out.

"They should have been here," Catherine said quietly to Danny, who had ignored every directive thrown his way about staying clear of the situation. Ironically, he'd convinced Kono and Chin to stay at Five-O headquarters, citing their need to 'cover for him'.

"I know, babe," Danny said, squeezing her hand.

"Anything on Steve's cell phone? Joe's?" Catherine asked a fellow officer.

"No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head. "No answer from either of them. They checked in just as they were leaving the mountain house, and now we can't reach them."

"That's it," Catherine said decisively. "We're going. Danny, you know the place?"

Danny nodded, already heading toward the door. "I've got gear in my car; let's go."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve wasn't sure how long it had been since his convoy had been hit. He could hear at least one of his men groaning; there was at least one other survivor. He frowned at the lush grass underneath him; it was damp and warm. That seemed odd; North Korea was dry, and cold. He knew that his first priority should be to locate and secure Hesse; but something was nagging at him, something that seemed even more important. He tilted his head to the side; his ears were ringing, that had to be it, but it sounded like sirens.

He'd made it to his hands and knees, and he could see a flurry of activity . . . tires, flashing lights, boots . . . the familiar Navy working uniform camo pattern . . . a pair of ridiculous looking loafers, headed with purpose straight toward him . . .

"Steve! Steve; I've got Steve," a voice yelled. Steve placed the accent. Jersey. No one in his unit was from Jersey. Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders; softer hands cradled his face.

"Where's Riley?" the Jersey voice demanded, and Steve frowned.

Long, silky, dark hair swung into his line of vision, and the softer hands moved from his face, to his neck, checking for injuries. "Steve? Where are you hurt? How badly?" It was a feminine voice . . . he knew that voice. Lieutenant Rollins . . . but she was stateside.

"Cath?" he gasped. "Why are you here? Where's Hesse?"

Both sets of hands on him stilled instantly.

"Oh, babe," the Jersey voice said quietly.

There was more pain, then blessed darkness again.

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you, I'll notify Shelburne. We're ready on this end," Garrison said into the phone, smiling in satisfaction. He turned to the woman standing behind him, arms folded, watching the data stream.

"They've collected the package," he said. "Relatively in one piece, enough for our purposes anyway, and whatever is damaged will heal quickly enough."

"She wasn't supposed to be damaged," Doris McGarrett spat, eyes blazing. "I thought you said this team worked with precision."

"This team did work with precision," Garrison said coldly. "I'd like to see any team go up against McGarrett and White, and collect a person under their protection, with zero casualties on our end, and our prisoner relatively unharmed. They had to stop her vehicle with an RPG."

"And what of Commanders McGarrett and White?" Doris asked.

Garrison studied her for a moment. "I made a different call. I decided to send a clean-up team in after the primary target was secured. We didn't need the loose ends."

Doris grabbed Garrison by the throat and pushed his chair back against the conference table.

"You did not have the authority to make that call," she cried. "I am in charge of this project. I decide what teams go in."

"You are in danger of allowing your personal attachments to cloud your judgment," Garrison wheezed. "You're not objective." He pushed back, violently, and Doris released him.

"We'll be disavowed," she said.

"It doesn't matter," Garrison argued. "We have the subject, the data, everything. We let the CIA and the US Navy fund our project, and now we sell it to the highest bidder."

Doris felt a chill go up her spine. "The project - you mean the technology. We sell the technology to the highest bidder."

Garrison shrugged, "Sure," he replied. He stood, gathered his papers, and headed for the door. "I'll see you in the lab," he called back over his shoulder.

Doris sat down at the table and rested her head in her hands, eyes closed, for a long moment.

"Steve," she whispered to herself, wiping a shaking hand across her eyes. "This is why I never wanted you to find her . . . I wish you had never found her."

Then she stood, straightened her elegant sheath dress, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley was pretty sure she was floating. She remembered the monks, once, after one of Joe's training sessions, helping her slide into one of the natural mineral springs near the monastery. They'd cushioned her head on a soft buckwheat pillow, and let the rest of her body float in the water as she'd slipped in and out of consciousness. She remembered their hushed voices, the eldest of the monks chiding the others for anger. And then, an indeterminate amount of time later, there had been sticky rice, and jasmine tea.

Riley hummed softly, wondering if there would be jasmine tea now.

"Is she secure?" a voice said.

"She is," came the reply. "She's flooded with oxytocin, thanks to our guys back at the lab; plus, we gave her a solid kick of ketamine. She's like a kitten. Declawed," the voice laughed.

"I don't care; I've seen what she's capable of," the first voice insisted. Riley felt a pressure around her wrists, her ankles. "Do not release these restraints under any circumstances."

#*#*#*#*#

Joe heard a muffled conversation.

"Secure his C-spine with a collar; don't release the seatbelt. Then we lower the truck back level, and take him out through the door. Ultimately, it's less of a risk to his spine than trying to fish him out with the truck in the current position."

He felt hands moving around his neck, and tried to explain to them that they needed to help Steve find Riley. And then the truck was lurching, and Joe closed his eyes, willed himself not to vomit, and waiting for the earth to stop tilting.

Cool hands pressed against his forehead, and the scent of the ocean and board wax drifted into his awareness. He cracked open the one eye that wasn't swollen shut, and peered into Kono's concerned face.

"Riley," he gasped.

"Shh, brah," she said, holding a wad of gauze against his temple while an EMT started an IV. "We'll find her; we'll get her back."

He felt her long, delicate fingers brush away the tear that tracked down his face.

#*#*#*#*#

"We're ready for you, Director Shelburne, Director Garrison," a young technician said respectfully. "The subject is in Observation Room 1." She turned and walked silently down the hallway, her shoes muffled by booties similar to those worn in operating rooms. The windowless space was lit by ancient fluorescent lights, which sputtered and blinked intermittently.

Doris and Garrison stopped outside the room, while the technician replaced her surgical mask and entered.

"Why the creepy operating room get-ups?" Garrison questioned.

"We are doing this my way," Doris said. "I've created a scenario that should prove acceptable to her consciousness; provided, of course, that your ad-libbing procedure and protocol hasn't ruined it before we even start. From this point on, Garrison, make no mistake: you do nothing without my explicit approval, and you are to have zero contact with the subject. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Garrison said snidely. "Though may I remind you that since we are no longer operating under the supervision of the United States Government, you are no longer my superior?"

Doris fixed him with an ice-cold glare. "I don't need to be, Garrison. Cross me, and I will end you."

They turned to the window and watched as several technicians, all dressed as hospital staff, worked efficiently around a narrow hospital bed, typical of those found in emergency rooms. Riley lay silent and motionless as an IV was expertly started, and several bags of fluid hung. A technician slipped a pulse-ox monitor on her finger, and patted her hand when she twitched in response.

The first technician stuck her head outside the door and address Doris.

"Restraints?" she asked.

"They stay on," Doris said. "Wrists and ankles. Do not underestimate her; not for a moment."

"Yes, ma'am," the technician said. "We estimate about an hour, maybe a little longer, until she begins to regain consciousness."

"Thank you," Doris said. "I'll be ready. Notify me at the first sign that she's coming around; I want to be in the room before she's fully conscious. Make sure she's out of those cargo pants and boots, too. I want her in a hospital gown, not anything that could possibly connect her with what she's been doing these last few weeks."

"Yes, ma'am," the technician repeated, and closed the door as she returned to her tasks.

"I'm going to set up," Doris said, turning to continue down the hallway. "I suggest, Garrison, that you run your final analysis of the most recent stream of data. You're supposed to be monitoring that slight irregularity from the seizure. And while she's unconscious, you need to manipulate the last of the images. Add Joe White and Frank Bama."

"Yes, of course," Garrison said. He watched as Doris turned the corner of the hallway, and then settled in to watch through the one-way mirror as the technicians carried out the instructions and dressed Riley in a hospital gown. She was, Garrison thought, as he leered at the window, a very fine specimen indeed.

#*#*#*#*#

Jerry was aware of Chin's voice, cutting through a lot of racket. There were sparks, and flashes, and a horrific grinding noise, but in it and through it, Chin's calm voice reached him as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Jerry, they're cutting you out of the car, brah," Chin said, "just hold steady, they'll have you out of there in no time."

Chin shook his head at the sight in front of him: Jerry's broad back was a mangle of glass and metal. He'd obviously turned his considerable bulk in an effort to shield Riley from whatever had struck the side of the SUV . . . an RPG, if Chin was guessing correctly.

True to his word, Jerry was an excellent driver. In fact, when he saw Steve's truck spinning wildly out of control in front of him, he'd swerved so expertly, and accelerated so rapidly, in an effort to get clear of the area, that the strike team had scrambled to stop him. Unable to clear the massive Silverado turned sideways in front of them, they'd resorted to their plan b: take out the SUV with an RPG. Aimed at the driver's side, of course - they could bring the subject in injured, but she needed to be alive.

"Alright," Chin heard them say. "Let's see if his leg is still attached, once we pull this steering column out of the way. Ready?"

#*#*#*#*#

Doris stood outside the observation window, watching as Riley's hand twitched against the sheet.

The technician stepped outside the room. If she was startled by Doris dressed in yoga pants and a long tunic, she didn't let on.

"She's beginning to regain consciousness," the technician explained. "However, she did sustain some fairly significant injuries in her . . . recovery by the strike team. She has a severe concussion; several bruised ribs; a hairline fracture of her collarbone - probably from the seatbelt. There are several lacerations, some of them fairly severe, from pieces of glass and shards of metal. We've sutured those and administered a tetanus shot. Her right knee is at least sprained; we'll repeat an x-ray when the swelling goes down to rule out a fracture. There is a massive, bone-deep contusion on her right hip. Interestingly, almost all of her injuries are on her right side; it's as though something or someone attempted to shield her left side from impact. The manipulated oxytocin and the administered ketamine will be wearing off soon; do you want us to have other pain management on board?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Doris replied.

The technician hesitated. "Ma'am, I'm not sure if you're aware of the extent . . . none of these injuries sound terribly severe, and of course at this point they aren't life threatening, but they are incredibly painful injuries. She's going to be in excruciating -"

"That will be all, thank you," Doris said, cutting her off. "You can stay in the room with her until she regains consciousness. Once she's aware of your presence, I want you to leave before she attempts to communicate with you. Do you understand? The timing is important."

The technician opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it. Nodding her head, she went back into the room.

Garrison joined Doris at the window.

"What does her latest EEG show?" Doris asked.

"Still an abnormality in the bilateral amygdala," Garrison frowned. "Fear and anger perception and responses may be difficult to differentiate. We won't know until she regains consciousness. It may be minimal, intermittent . . . the deviation is small."

"Understood," Doris said. "Keep me informed; I'll want constant readings. And I want a warning if aggression levels spike."

"Did you bring your dart gun?" Garrison joked, pleased with himself. His chuckle faded and fell flat at a cold glare from Doris.

"Were you able to successfully suggest the additional images?" Doris said, ignoring his sudden sophomoric behavior. She tapped a folder in her hand, which contained still photos of Joe White, Frank Bama, and multiple photos of Steve.

"Yes; in fact, the combination of the oxytocin and the ketamine created what is arguably the most effective suggestive state yet. Well, that and the increasing actual pain chemicals flooding her system. Not to mention the fact that she's in shock . . . in short, the manipulation should prove to be a huge success," Garrison said, obviously pleased with himself.

"Excellent," Doris nodded, turning to watch Riley again. Soon. Soon she would reap the rewards of two decades of careful, meticulous work.

As Riley shifted and whimpered in pain, the technician turned her face away from the window and tried to compose herself. She didn't know much of what was going on, but her instincts told her that if Director Shelburne saw tears of sympathy in her eyes, that it would not go well with her. She schooled her features and steeled herself to walk out of the room.

"Nicely done," Doris nodded at the technician. "It's important that the subject wake up alone. You're dismissed; we will call you back if you're needed."

#*#*#*#*#

"What if he's lost all of this time?" Danny said, pacing in the waiting room. "Hunh? How are we gonna explain to him - oh, yeah, Steve, buddy: your dad is dead, your mom is alive but she's evil, and probably trying to kill you and the sister you never knew you had. Hunh? How are we gonna explain that to him?"

"Danny, please try to calm down," Catherine said, trying to coax Danny into a chair. "He was freshly concussed and in agonizing pain . . . it's not unusual for someone to be incredibly disoriented in that situation. Think about it; think about how disoriented he can get just waking up from a nightmare. Right?"

Danny stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay, yeah, that's true," he said, grabbing hold of the hope that Catherine extended and hanging on for dear life.

Chin and Kono jumped up at the sound of the door, and the entire team anxiously faced an exhausted looking Malia.

"Okay, here's what we know," Malia said. "Everyone is concussed and injured, obviously, lots of lacerations and massive bruising, for starters, but everyone is going to recover" She stopped and let the team wrap their brains around the first piece of good news.

"Steve has severe bruising to his left kidney," she went on to explain. "We're going to watch it closely to be sure he doesn't have a tear or rupture, which could be life-threatening. As it is, the bruising has allowed for a slow but steady blood loss, which was why, in addition to the excruciating pain, he had trouble maintaining consciousness on the scene, and went into shock. We're doing everything we can to get that under control, including drugs and good old fashioned ice packs. We're also carefully monitoring intake and output of fluids, trying to put the least amount of stress on his kidneys as we can."

"Has he regained consciousness?" Danny asked anxiously. "Malia, he thought he was still bringing in Hesse. He was back in North Korea, on the mission that . . . when his dad was murdered. He didn't know me, he didn't ask about Riley . . . "

"He has been in and out," Malia said, "but heavily sedated, and hasn't tried yet to communicate. We should know more, now that he's settled in a regular room and his medications and fluids are being regulated."

"What about Joe, and Jerry?" Chin asked.

"Joe suffered a dislocated shoulder, which has been reset, and we're watching his liver and spleen closely to rule out possible bleeds. There's a lot of swelling, and we'll be doing repeat scans. Jerry . . . " Malia hesitated. "Jerry suffered massive, extensive lacerations and contusions, mostly on his back. Thankfully, Jerry is a big guy, so even though some of the lacerations were quite deep, it doesn't appear that anything vital was severed. I called in plastics and they are going to be working for quite a while to clean and suture everything. He's . . . frankly, guys, it's bad. Not life-threatening, but bad. He also has a hairline fracture of his hip . . . it's a bit of a mystery, but the only thing we can figure is that he was turned, angled, with his back toward the driver door, at the point of impact. The angle was such that his body couldn't absorb the impact. Again, he's lucky he's such a big guy. It could have been much, much worse."

"Oh, my God," Kono said, her hand going over her mouth. "He tried . . . he tried to cover Riley with his body? Shield her?"

Chin shook his head. "Wow, who knew . . ."

"When can we talk to them?" Catherine asked.

"Soon," Malia said, but hesitated. "Look, I know you're anxious to find out what happened, but I'm not sure -"

"Malia," Catherine interrupted gently. "We're fairly certain we know what happened."

"Oh," Malia said, nodding. "I suppose some of the details are . . . "

"Classified," Catherine said. "As to the specifics of those involved. We believe there were two units; one to retrieve Riley and one to . . . handle the others. An unlikely asset managed to . . . neutralize the second team, unfortunately losing his own life in the process. What we need to know now, is whether or not the guys have any clues whatsoever as to where Riley would have been taken." Catherine paused and took a calming breath. "Because at the moment, we have absolutely no leads whatsoever. Not even so much as a tire track."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley was less certain now that she was floating . . . instead, she felt as though she was being held underwater by a huge weight, pressing down on her. She fought against a rising sense of panic, as a growing awareness of pain crept into her consciousness.

She tried to remember . . . bits and pieces of murmured phrases flashed through her mind.

 _I'm so sorry_ , she thought she'd just heard a soft voice say, and she turned her head, struggling to open her eyes, to find the voice, but it was gone. Turning her head proved problematic, as pain exploded and nausea swept over her. She swallowed convulsively and stayed very still.

The pain in her head seemed to be more localized, near her right temple, and she started to lift her hand to touch it, to explore and try to determine the damage.

Her hand wouldn't move.

She tried the other hand, also to no avail. For a moment, she was gripped with the sheer terror that she had been paralyzed, but then she felt the chafing of the leather and realized that she was simply restrained. Why she had been restrained was a puzzle, but . . .

And now her nose itched.

As she shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed, waves of pain radiated from her collarbone and hip, and she gasped in pain. She felt darkness . . . grayness . . . and she was tempted to give in and slip back into unconsciousness.

 _You're stronger, and smarter . . . no matter what . . . trust me_ , a voice reminded her.

If the voice was a memory, then someone thought she was strong, and smart. Riley decided that was enough of a reason to pull herself toward consciousness and test that theory. She clenched her teeth against the pain, and forced her eyes open, wincing at the bright overhead lights. Keeping her breathing even, she tried to force herself to be calm.

Doris didn't realize she was smiling softly until Garrison looked at her sharply.

"What, are you proud of her?" Garrison asked, incredulous.

"The subject is utilizing the skills she was taught," Doris said, "it's not all about your nanotechnology. Yes, I'm pleased with the results of the training."

Doris waited patiently until she saw Riley's composure waver; until she saw the first tears slide from her eyes onto the pillow.

"Now?" Garrison asked, nodding his head toward the room.

"Now," Doris nodded. She opened the door to Riley's room and slipped in quietly.

"Riley," she called out softly, approaching the bed.

Riley moved her head minutely, fighting the pain and dizziness from her concussion.

"Olivia?" she gasped.

"Darling, do you know who I am?" Doris asked gently.

Riley fought the tears, but they fell despite her resistance.

"Mom?"


	23. Catalyst 2

"Yes, darling, it's me," Doris said, slipping into a chair next to Riley's bed and taking her hand, awkwardly, the restraints still firm around her wrist. "You've figured out so much . . . I'm so sorry. I wanted to be the one to tell you, but I should have known. You were always such an intelligent child."

"What's happening," Riley questioned, still disoriented. "Why am I tied down? What's going on?" Her voice grew firmer, more resolute, as she questioned Doris. It wasn't the expected reaction, and Doris interrupted quickly.

"Riley, you have to stay calm," she said. "You have a severe concussion and several other injuries. When they brought you in, you were so traumatized that you were lashing out; you were a danger to yourself and others."

"Well, I'm sure that I'm not now," Riley said. "So please, undo the restraints."

"We still don't know . . . darling, I'm so sorry to tell you this, but you hurt someone. I know you don't want that to happen again, so for now - just be patient. As things come back to you, everything will be explained," Doris said, trying to soothe her. "I'm going to step out just for a bit. I'll get you some water, okay?"

Riley nodded dubiously.

Doris paused at the door. "Darling, are you in much pain?"

Riley studied her for a moment.

 _You're stronger, and smarter_ _. . . no matter what . . . trust me_ , she remembered. That was all. A man's voice; a phrase. But she was sure now that it was a memory, not her imagination, and she clung to it desperately.

"No," she lied. "I'm okay."

Doris slipped out the door.

"She's far more disoriented than she should be," Doris snapped at Garrison. "It has to be from the concussion. She's not asking the right questions."

"She's refusing pain medication," Garrison commented. "But the data doesn't indicate that she's deliberately suppressing yet."

Doris shook her head. "She will, instinctively, subconsciously. But her refusal . . . " She fell silent.

"What?" Garrison questioned.

"She's fighting us," Doris said. "She doesn't know it, and she doesn't know why, but she's fighting us."

She turned away, and walked down the hall, before Garrison could read the pride that she suspected was reflected in her eyes.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was sure that his convoy had been blasted with an IED. That was the only explanation for the bits and pieces of sounds and images that he was trying to grasp. An explosion, a grinding of metal . . . pain . . . crawling. The sound of someone groaning. Blackness. Voice, and then blackness again.

There had been something important. Something that he was trying to remember. He fought through the haze of darkness . . . the detachment that he was pretty sure meant that they'd given him the good stuff. He was having trouble getting his eyes to cooperate, but his hands seemed to be online. He tried twitching one, and was rewarded with voices.

"Steve? Catherine, he's coming around," a voice said. It was that Jersey voice again.

Jersey. Danny. _Danny._

A rush of memory came flooding back . . . an explosion, Anton Hesse against a fence, Victor Hesse's voice in his ear, and then a gunshot . . .

"Dad," Steve gasped, fighting to open his eyes.

"Shit," Danny whispered.

"Danny, no, it's okay," Steve rasped out.

"Nothing is okay, Steve," Danny retorted, "but you remember - stuff?"

"Yeah, Danny. Dad's gone, you're my partner, it's been a while," Steve said wearily, finally prying his eyes open. He rather regretted it. The light hurt.

"Steve," Catherine said, and he turned his head toward her soft voice, wincing as the movement sent pain radiating through his skull. He wondered idly if this would be the time that it finally happened, that his skull just finally exploded.

"Cath," he murmured, giving her a loopy smile. "It must be bad if you came."

"I'm stationed at Pearl, Steve," Catherine said, her brown eyes soft and worried. "And I was close by, helping you with something. Do you remember what I was helping you with?"

"I was transporting . . . not Hesse," Steve said. "Important . . . very important . . . "

"Yeah, babe, very," Danny said. "Do you remember?"

Steve blinked, then gasped as another flood of memory and realization flooded him, the images and memories coming so fast and vibrant that it physically hurt.

"Riley," he said, his eyes widening in horror, looking back and forth between Danny and Catherine. "We were coming to Tripler - are we at Tripler? - is Riley here? We were going to . . . they hurt her, they're hurting her, we were going to try -" Steve broke off as he saw the sadness in Danny and Catherine's eyes. "No - NO -" he insisted, "Fielding . . . . Fielding was there, he got stuff out of my truck, he said that . . . so he could have found her, maybe he -"

"Steve," Catherine said, resting the back of her hand gently against the part of his cheek that wasn't black and blue, "Fielding managed to take out an entire clean-up team. He saved your life, and Jerry's, and Joe's. But we imagine Riley was long gone before Fielding arrived. They would have sent two teams: one to grab Riley and one to take the rest of you out."

Steve pressed his hands against his eyes.

"I have teams out searching, Steve," Catherine said.

"Joe and Jerry?" he asked quietly, afraid to meet their eyes, afraid of the answers.

"Concussed, bruised, but they'll heal," Danny said. "Jerry . . . his back is cut up pretty bad; hairline fracture of his hip. They think he was turned; the driver side of the SUV was decimated, and they think he had turned toward Riley. Tried to shield her from the brunt of it."

Steve nodded in relief, decided he couldn't process his gratitude to Jerry for what he tried to do, for using his own body to try to protect Riley. He'd think about that later. He took a deep breath, and took stock. The pain, dizziness, and nausea meant concussion. The dull, throbbing ache in his low back, to the left of his spine, was probably subdued by drugs, and probably meant bruised kidney . . . he wondered if . . . he shifted in the bed a little - yup. Catheter. He groaned.

"Babe?" Danny stepped closer to his side, worried.

"Damn it," Steve gritted out. "A catheter? Seriously?"

"You tanked your kidney, Steve; you're lucky you're not in surgery," Danny chided.

"How bad?"

"Bruised," Catherine answered. "Badly bruised; enough that there was some slow blood loss. Thankfully not torn, not as far as they can tell. Concussion, of course. Various stitches."

"Good," Steve nodded. "Nothing serious, then." He proceeded to start pulling at the various tubes and equipment attached to him. The pulse ox monitor went first; that, in his experience, usually brought a nurse running, and it was more efficient to get a nurse to dispatch with some of the other stuff.

"Steve, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" Danny asked, incredulous, his hands emphasizing his point.

Steve looked at him, equally incredulous. "I'm going after Riley," he said, as if Danny were completely lolo.

"Steve," Catherine tried, pressing his shoulders gently back into the bed, mindful of the colorful bruising from the seatbelt, the airbag and the . . . well, the fact that his truck had probably been blown up.

Steve fixed her with a level gaze, held her eyes with his. She stepped back, holding her hands up in surrender. Danny rolled his eyes - lot of help _she_ was; she was Navy, for crying out loud, probably ate commanders for breakfast, and yet folded under the patented Super SEAL stare.

True to form, a nurse came in, exasperated. "Honestly, Commander McGarrett," she started, and Steve fixed her with that same look.

"Captain, my sister has been taken by some people who mean to hurt her," he said. "I need you to help me get these IVs and this catheter out, and I need my clothing, my gun, and my badge."

The nurse turned to Danny and Catherine. "If I give you instructions, will you keep an eye on him?"

Danny threw his hands up while Catherine nodded and backhanded him solidly in the chest.

"Oof," Danny heaved out. "Yes; okay? Yes, of course we'll keep an eye on him. This is crazy, I want to go on record as saying. Crazy."

The nurse nodded and smiled. "You want them to step out in the hall, Commander?"

Steve shrugged, busy untangling himself from the IVs. He certainly wasn't going to spare time to worry about such trivial matters as dignity and modesty at a time like this.

"How much time?" he demanded. "How much of a lead do they have?" His watch was nowhere to be seen.

Danny and Catherine were quiet.

"Danno?" he asked, swallowing against a lump in his throat, a rush of bile as he realized that it looked suspiciously dark behind the blinds of his window.

Danny cleared this throat, glanced at Catherine, back at Steve.

"Hours, Steve. You were out cold for a while there. Which was good, really," Danny said.

Steve stared at him.

"Eight hours," Danny finally said. "It's been eight hours, buddy."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley closed her eyes and tried to pull her fractured, scattered thoughts together. At first, every thought was overwhelmed by a blanket of pain, but little by little, she realized that she could ignore some of it.

 _You're stronger, and smarter_ . . .

She had a flash of memory . . . her arm, cut and bleeding, strong, steady hands putting in stitches. Pushing the pain away until it was a thread running far at the back of her mind. She was certain now of two things: the hands belonged to the voice, and she could push this pain away if she tried.

The various lacerations and stitches faded to the back of her mind quickly, almost without her conscious effort. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and focused. One pain at a time, she thought, and turned her attention to her injuries. At first, a flash of pain would make her gasp, but then one by one, she had shoved her aching collarbone and ribs, her throbbing knee and hip, slowly but surely to the far corners of her mind.

Her head, though was still pounding, threatening to split open, and her thoughts were still fuzzy.

 _You're stronger, and smarter_ . . .

The fuzzy felt somehow familiar, and she concentrated on that. Had she felt this way before? Yes, she decided . . . and she remembered a name for it: ketamine. The name had been murmured by a soft voice . . . much like the voice she thought she'd heard earlier, and also by the strong voice, the one that kept telling her she was strong and smart.

Riley took a deep breath and took stock of what she knew for sure: she was injured, drugged, and restrained. Olivia had confirmed that she was really her mother, and had told her that she'd hurt someone, offered her more drugs, and refused to take off her restraints.

"Shit," she mumbled to herself. There was a flash of blue eyes, warm and gentle, chiding her goodnaturedly for her language. They didn't belong to the voice, or to the hands, but they went along somehow.

 _You're stronger, and smarter . . . and you can trust me_ . . .

Riley decided that, for the time being, she would trust the voice and the hands, and the blue eyes. And nothing else.

#*#*#*#*#

"Eight hours," Steve repeated, in disbelief. "They have an eight hour lead on us?"

"I'm sorry, Steve," Catherine said. "I had teams there right away."

"It's SAD, Catherine," Steve said quietly. "You know they aren't going to leave a trace that your teams can track."

"Then what do you think you're going to do, Steve?" Danny asked, trying to get Steve to see reason.

Steve looked at Danny, his face starting to slip into what Danny thought of as his Scary SEAL mask. "I said they wouldn't leave anything the intelligence teams could track, Danny," he said, not unkindly. "I didn't say that I couldn't track them." Free of the various tubes and wires, he started casting about for his clothing.

Catherine silently handed him a bag which contained his boots, his boxer briefs, and his wallet. "Security has your badge, and your and Joe's guns," she said. "Sorry, sweetheart, this is all that could be salvaged."

Steve sighed. "Danny," he started, but as usual, Danny was one step ahead of him.

"You have a go-bag in the back of the Camaro, yeah," Danny said. He paused at the door. "Steve, I don't suppose we could try again to convince you to stay in that bed where you belong?"

As Danny headed out the door, Chin appeared. He arched an eyebrow at the sight of Steve, obviously moving toward freeing himself from the hospital, and obviously in pain.

"Before you get too far, Steve," Chin said, shaking his head and coming to help Steve, despite his better judgment, "Joe is awake and insists that he needs to speak to you. He says it's important."

Steve nodded, gritting his teeth against a wave of pain that radiated from his back.

Chin studied him for a moment then disappeared into the hallway.

Catherine placed a cool hand on the back of Steve's neck, and pressed her forehead to his.

"Steve, what can I do?" she whispered. "Do you want me to go join the teams, start looking?"

"I need you with Five-O," he said. "Catherine, I need you with me. Do you want me to call the governor? Or will your CO approve it?"

"I've been given discretion to do what seems in the best interest of finding WoFat," Catherine said. "Since we can assume WoFat is still tracking Riley, then finding Riley falls within my orders. And Five-O has a better chance of finding Riley than Naval Intelligence, it would appear."

Steve nodded. "Look, if everything goes sideways . . . pull what strings you can, Catherine, and call my SEAL team, okay? Call my guys."

Catherine nodded, and then turned as Danny returned, accompanied by the nurse.

"Your armor, m'lord," Danny said, handing over Steve's go-bag.

The nurse smiled, and raised her hand, holding a fistful of papers, a pharmacy bag, and a syringe. "And a few talismans against the evil pain," she added. "It's obvious we aren't going to keep you here, Commander, so let's make you as comfortable as we can, shall we?"

"I need to be able to focus," Steve protested.

"I understand this," the nurse assured him. "But you won't focus if you've passed out from pain and slow blood loss." She proceeded to inject Steve smartly with the syringe, in the hip opposite his bruised kidney. "This should take the edge off until the oral meds can kick in."

Steve nodded in thanks and grabbed his bag, wincing and moving stiffly into the bathroom to dress.

The nurse turned to Danny and Catherine. "Okay, which of you is more likely to be able to convince the Commander to keep up with pain meds and antibiotics outside this room?"

Danny pointed to Catherine. "She has wiles. I have no wiles. Also, she outranks me."

Catherine rolled her eyes, but accepted the instructions and the pharmacy bag from the nurse.

"Okay, that's everything but the discharge paper," the nurse said. "It would appear that Detective Williams is the medical proxy," she added, raising an eyebrow as she handed the clipboard to Danny to sign.

"It's complicated," Danny said.

"I'm active Navy; I'm not usually available in person," Catherine added.

"Hey, DADT was repealed," the nurse said, holding up her hands. "Good luck with him. And with finding his sister. I hope it all works out." She gathered the paperwork and closed the door gently behind her.

Steve came out of the bathroom, looking pale but determined.

"Okay, we go see what Joe wants, and then we start back at the scene. I want all the phones . . . I want to know why Fielding knew what was coming, I want to know if our phones were being tracked or if they -" his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, "they were just tracking Riley."

Catherine held out a few tablets on her palm, and a bottle of water. "Take these now. With any luck, they'll kick in before the shot wears off. It's non-negotiable, sailor. You only get my cooperation with this mission if I get your cooperation with mine."

Steve huffed but obediently tossed back the pills with a gulp of water.

"Can we go talk to Joe now?" he asked, barely restraining his impatience.

#*#*#*#*#

Garrison nodded in satisfaction at the stream of data coming across the screen. "She's actively suppressing now," he said, holding the tablet out for Doris to see. "Brain activity is stabilizing. You should be able to have some sort of meaningful interrogation with her now."

Doris nodded and pushed the door open into Riley's room; a file folder tucked under her arm.

"Darling, how are you feeling?" she asked. Sweet.

Riley looked at her steadily. "I'm feeling as if I'm restrained with leather cuffs to a bed."

Doris sat down next to her, and patted her hand. "RIley, what do you remember about the last few weeks?" She pulled out a photo of Charlie Fong, wearing an HPD windbreaker, and held it up to Riley. "Do you remember this man?"

Riley looked at the photo, her heart rate increasing as her anxiety level soared. She did recognize the picture . . . she associated it with pain, and confusion, and -

"I shot him," she gasped. "I shot him . . . he was law enforcement?"

"Yes, darling," Doris said sadly. "He was trying to help you; he was undercover, of course, you didn't know . . . but you were confused, and injured, and you shot him."

"Is he okay?" Riley asked, her voice filled with dread.

"Riley . . . let's try to see what else you remember. You have a terrible concussion, and you've been through a traumatic ordeal," Doris said.

"No," Riley insisted, "tell me about him."

"He's dead, Riley," Doris said. "They tried but . . . you don't miss. You're a very good shot. Do you remember that?"

Riley's eyes filled with tears, and some of the pain that she had so doggedly pressed out of her mind seeped back. "I didn't . . . I killed him?"

"Yes, Riley," Doris said, "and that's why you're restrained. You're so confused . . . until we know that you're understanding reality, this is really safer for everyone. Now, what do you remember? Think about the university . . . yes, I know that you were at the University of Tokyo. Tell me about it; tell me what happened when you . . . left."

"I -" Riley broke off, looking up at Doris in surprise. Where she knew there should be memories, there was mostly pain; flashes of memory, remnants of voices. Strong hands. Warm blue eyes. A word . . . _ohana_. She closed her eyes and pulled against her restraints.

 _You're stronger and smarter_ . . .

"I don't remember," she said quietly, her eyes still closed tightly.

Doris smiled, then carefully schooled her features. "Riley," she said, "let me try to explain it to you. Open your eyes, darling."

Riley reluctantly opened her eyes, squinting against the bright overhead lights.

"Do you need something for the pain?" Doris offered.

Riley shook her head stubbornly. "I need to know what's going on."

Doris sighed and pulled out another photo from the folder. She held it up for Riley.

"Do you remember this man?" she asked, watching Riley carefully for a reaction.

"Agent Pierce . . . no, Joe White," Riley said. "He said he was Agent Pierce. He said he was WITSEC and that you had gone into hiding because of one of your stories."

"Yes, yes, darling, that's true," Doris said, nodding. "I'm sorry; we thought it best for him to not use his real name, for your safety. But the rest is true; he was with WITSEC. I had exposed a Yakuza crime ring, researching one of my stories. We were just trying to keep you safe." She pulled out another picture. "What about this man?"

Riley smiled in spite of herself. "Frank," she said.

"Yes, that's right," Doris said. This was going well so far. "Joe took you to Frank's. Do you remember what you did there?"

"Joe taught me stuff," Riley said, looking at Doris cautiously.

"We wanted to prepare you to look out for yourself," Doris said, "in the event that I couldn't be reunited with you. You took to it quite naturally."

 _You're stronger, and smarter_ . . .

Doris tilted her head, as if she were considering something. "Riley," she said, hesitating, "I need to show you another picture. Is that okay?"

Riley shrugged, as best as she could in the restraints, and nodded.

Doris pulled out a picture of WoFat, and held it up. No conditioning or tampering had been attempted in connection with WoFat's picture; none was necessary.

Riley recoiled from the picture, and drew in a sharp breath of pain as her concentration slipped, and memory of her interaction with WoFat filled her mind.

"No," she whispered. "Please . . . please . . . I don't want . . . "

Doris made sympathetic noises but didn't put the picture away. "I'm sorry, darling, but you need to remember. Do you know who this man is? How do you know him?"

"He . . . there was . . . he hurt me; I think . . . more than once-" Riley broke off, a broken sob escaping her. "His name is WoFat . . . I'm not sure how I know that, but he wanted . . . he wanted to know about Shelburne and . . . people came, and took me away from him, Frank, and Joe . . . "

Doris finally put the picture away. "Riley, what about Joe?"

"Joe . . . there was a fight . . . " Riley shook her head. Her memory felt distorted, fractured.

"Yes, you put up a great fight, Riley, but you were outnumbered and Joe . . . I'm so sorry, Riley, but Joe betrayed us. He arranged for WoFat to take you; he tried to make it look like an ambush, but it wasn't. I'm sorry," Doris said, shaking her head sadly.

"How . . . I don't understand," Riley said.

Doris sighed and pulled out another picture. Her eyes flicked up to the one-way mirror, where she knew Garrison still watched. She held it out toward Riley and watched closely for her response.

She wasn't disappointed. Riley's eyes widened in horror, and she scrambled ineffectively, pushing herself back on the small, hard bed.

"No!" she cried. "I can't . . . please," she gasped, pain overwhelming her. "I don't understand."

Doris casually put the picture of Steve back on top of the folder, but kept it within Riley's line of sight. "Riley, this is WoFat's right hand man. He carries out WoFat's orders; he does WoFat's dirty work for him, sometimes."

Riley shook her head. "No, it's not right . . . something isn't right. There's . . . no, I know him. I remember . . ." Through the swirl of pain and confusion, she heard the voice again. A memory, she was sure of it, not her imagination.

 _You're stronger, and smarter . . . no matter what, trust me_ . . .

"No," Riley insisted, "he's not . . . "

"Oh, Riley, darling," Doris said gently. "It's not unusual. This happens. It's called Stockholm Syndrome. When people are taken and . . . mistreated; sometimes the mind, in order to protect itself, will fabricate an elaborate alternate reality. We believe that's what happened with you; that's why you're so confused."

Riley shook her head stubbornly.

"Riley, do you know how long you were missing?" Doris asked.

Riley looked at her in confusion. She couldn't seem to grasp a sense of the passage of time and space.

"You were with WoFat for six weeks," Doris said quietly. "Six weeks, Riley . . . you have no idea . . . it was as if you'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I called on WITSEC and they found you, in Hawaii. They put together a joint team with Honolulu Police Department and went after you. But you were so confused . . . you fought the WITSEC team and that's when . . . "

"That's when I . . . killed the officer?" Riley whispered. "I don't . . . I don't remember . . . "

 _Dead, but not dead_ \- the flash of memory was accompanied by a stabbing pain.

"Shh," Doris soothed, "The important thing is, you're safe now. He can't hurt you again."

"He didn't -" Riley protested weakly.

Doris held up the picture again. "Riley," she said, sternly. "You need to let go of this delusion. This man held you captive, along with WoFat, for weeks. He . . . Riley, you have bruised ribs, your collarbone is fractured, you have bruises that go bone-deep . . . darling, he did this to you. It was too much; your mind couldn't accept the torture, and you created some sort of reality to protect yourself. So much so, that when your rescuers came, you . . . you attacked and killed one of them before you could be restrained."

 _Dead not dead_ . . . a memory . . . _trust me_ . . . a voice, and an image of strong hands. Warm blue eyes. Sunshine. _Ohana_.

Riley turned her head away from Doris. "I don't believe you. Please go away," she whispered.

Doris glanced at the mirror. "Riley," she said, making her voice as motherly as possible. "Why, darling . . . my darling girl, what possible reason would I have to lie to you?"

Riley turned her head, fixing Doris with flashing eyes, and Doris dropped her file, pictures scattering on the ground. "I don't know . . . _mother_ . . . " she said, her voice strangely and suddenly strong. "What possible reason would you have had to lie to me my whole life? Why should I believe you now?"

Doris regrouped as best as she could, and carefully schooled her features into a mask of sympathy and sad fondness. "Oh, Riley, I know, it's all so confusing . . . but everything I've ever done was to protect you."

"It didn't work," Riley said, gritting her teeth as her concentration and control faltered, allowing the pain from her injuries to overwhelm her. "Please, just go away . . . "

Doris gathered up the file and photos and stalked from the room, closing the door behind her. She glared at Garrison.

"It. Isn't. Working," she hissed.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Garrison said. "This is the best that technology can offer. You've always known that the girl herself would be the wild card. You were the one who wanted her left with McGarrett, in order to collect the data. Science can explain many things but the bond between siblings . . . "

"Damn Joe White and his interference," Doris seethed. "If he hadn't tried to squirrel her away, tried to manipulate and play both sides . . . WoFat never would have grabbed her and the Five-O team never would have gotten their hands on her."

"We can't rewrite history," Garrison said. "What do you want me to do now?"

Doris thought for a moment, tapping her folder against her hand. "Benzodiazepines. Induce complete amnesia, if we need to. If we can't convince her of our version of the story, we'll just have to wipe the slate clean. Then she'll have no choice but to accept what we tell her."

Within moments, the young technician with the soft voice entered the room. She kept her face turned away from the mirror as she slid a needle into Riley's vein.

"Hang on to whatever you can," she whispered, her lips safely hidden behind the surgical mask. She slipped her hand into Riley's, and held on until Riley's eyes slid shut.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe looked up as Steve, Danny, and Catherine entered his room.

"Oh, Joe . . ." Catherine said softly, taking in his battered appearance.

"I've been worse, Lieutenant," Joe said, smiling wanly at her. "Steve, you okay, son?"

"Bruised kidney," Steve said. "Joe, they have hours and hours on us. Intel teams have come up empty. Please, tell me you have something for me; some idea of where Do- my moth-" he stumbled over the words. "Tell me you have some idea of where Shelburne would be. Please, Joe? You've got to have some idea."

Joe nodded. "How badly is Jerry injured? How bad was their vehicle hit?"

"Pretty bad," Danny said quietly. "Although Jerry's injuries . . . it looks like he may have been able to shield Riley somewhat."

Joe nodded. "He's a good man. Probably underestimated and underappreciated. Fielding?"

"Sacrificed himself to take out the clean-up team," Steve answered. "We owe him our lives."

Joe was silent for a moment. "They wouldn't be able to travel terribly far. Riley is surely injured; they have to have a massive amount of computer and medical equipment to contend with. My guess is she's still on the island; at most, maybe on Molokaʻi."

Steve allowed himself a sigh of relief. "What am I looking for?"

"Heat signatures; a higher than expected consumption of electricity for the size of the facility," Joe said. "Delivery of medical or computer equipment. We can hope that we've at least kept them scrambling enough to make some sort of mistake."

"Thanks, Joe," Steve said, turning to leave the room.

"Steve," Joe said. "As much as I hope that information helps you, that's not why I asked to speak to you."

Steve turned back slowly.

"Could you give us a minute?" Joe asked, looking at Danny and Catherine.

"No," Steve said decisively. "We don't do secrets, Joe. Whatever you need to say, you say to all of us."

Joe took a deep breath. "Steve, I believe you're going to find Riley. I can't accept any other alternative. But when you do . . . I promised you that if you gave me a second chance, I wouldn't lie to you. And I need to tell you something, now, before you . . . before you possibly stumble upon it."

"I'm listening, Joe," Steve said, prompting the older man as he went silent for a moment.

"Steve, you tested Riley's DNA against yours," Joe said.

"Yeah, and it proved with almost complete certainty that we are full siblings," Steve confirmed.

"Yes," Joe said. "But Steve . . . did you compare your DNA, and Riley's, against a DNA sample of your father? Of your mother?"

"I - " Steve stopped, looked at Joe in disbelief. "Well, no, Joe, seeing as how my father is dead and my mother is currently unavailable, I didn't. What are you saying?"

"I don't know anything with any degree of certainty, Steve," Joe said. "But I think . . . if you just think about it a minute. You and Riley. And then Mary. Just - I think there are questions, Steve, and I don't know the answers. I swear, I don't know anything with any certainty. But I couldn't . . . I can't not say something, and then if you find something, when you find Riley . . . if you thought I knew something, and had withheld it from you . . . it would destroy whatever trust and respect I had managed to earn back."

Steve stared at him, swaying a bit on his feet.

"Steady there, partner," Danny murmured, putting a strong hand on Steve's bicep.

"Joe," Steve said, his voice hoarse. "Are you saying . . . whose DNA should we cross-match?

"Well, son," Joe said quietly. "Mine, for starters."


	24. Catalyst 3

"Joe . . . I - what are you _saying_ , Joe?" Steve demanded.

"I'm saying when you find Riley, I expect you're going to want to eliminate this threat, once and for all. It's what I've trained you to do. And to do that, you're going to want to get your hands on absolutely every piece of evidence . . . every bit of information connected to her, to Shelburne." Joe shifted, trying to ease the ache taking hold of his body. "And when you do that, I think it's possible - possible - that you're going to come across something . . . I don't know, Steve. I just know that I've always wondered. Timelines match up and I've always wondered, and if there's any possibility - I just wanted you to hear it from me, first. Not from someone else."

"You and . . . and my mom?" Steve asked.

Danny couldn't help but smother a smile, even in his shock. Steve sounded for all the world like a kid who just discovered that storks did not, in fact, drop babies off at houses.

Joe started to say something, and then thought better of it.

"I need to find Riley," Steve said. "I can't -"

"Go, Steve," Joe urged. "Go find your sister. That's what matters now. We can sort out the rest later."

Danny found himself steering a shell-shocked Steve by the elbow.

They paused outside Joe's door.

"Danny, I can't . . . " Steve shook his head.

"Look," Danny said, turning to face Steve, his hands reaching up to gently squeeze his shoulders, "marriages, relationships . . . they're complicated things. You, and Riley, and Mary - you have each other, and you have us. No matter what. Right?"

Steve nodded, an expression of relief flooding his face as he looked into Danny's earnest blue eyes.

"Yeah, Danny," he said. "Okay, let's start trying to figure out a location, based on what Joe said."

"Steve!" Kono was running down the hall, oblivious to the disapproving glances from the medical personnel. "Jerry is awake; you have to - Steve, you have to come talk to him, right now."

"As if this day isn't strange enough," Danny muttered.

They followed Kono the few steps to Jerry's room. She became suddenly quiet at the door, and turned to them.

"He's really, really in a lot of pain, and loud noises and bright lights make it worse, okay?" she cautioned. "Don't yell at him," she added, pointing to Steve.

Steve had a passing thought that Kono was remarkably comfortable giving him orders, and then he was following Kono into Jerry's room.

"I'm sorry," Jerry blurted out, the minute Steve came through the door. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Jerry, you couldn't have done anything differently," Steve assured him. "We know, based on your injuries, that you did everything you could to protect Riley. That means a lot to me."

"She has a tracking device," Jerry said.

"We know, Jerry, Shelburne . . . they've been tracking her," Danny said, assuming that Jerry was confused.

"No, she has . . . okay, please don't be mad," Jerry said, looking at Steve.

"Jerry," Steve said slowly, "you're not making much sense. Try again."

"She had me tag her with a tracking device. It's in her ankle. Well, not in her ankle, not in the joint itself, of course, because that would be impractical and it would have involved surgical placement. It's subcutaneous," Jerry said. He tended to ramble when he was nervous, and the pain medicine wasn't helping. "If you'll get me a laptop, I can turn it on, and with any luck, you can track her. Please don't be mad. It was her idea."

"You can find her?" Steve said, stepping closer to Jerry's bed.

Jerry looked up at him nervously. "If she hasn't been taken off the island, and if the signal isn't blocked . . . I can't say for sure, but I can try."

Steve whirled around and almost bumped into Kono, who was hovering anxiously.

"Chin's already gone to get the laptop and a wireless tablet," she said. "How are you doing, Jerry? Holding up okay?"

Steve looked back at Jerry. His color was terrible . . . he was sickly pale, a light sheen of sweat covering his face.

"He had them turn off his pain meds until he could talk to you, and activate the device," Kono said. "Everything is wearing off. We need to hurry so they can start it back up again."

Steve looked down at Jerry, filled with respect and appreciation. "Well, hooyah, Jerry," he said. "Well done."

"You're not mad?" Jerry asked.

"Jerry, I'm not mad," Steve assured him. "I'm nothing but grateful for what you've done for Riley."

Chin came rushing into the room, arms full of equipment. Kono grabbed the laptop from him and handed it to Jerry, helping position it on the narrow hospital table, and carefully raising the head of the bed so that Jerry could reach the laptop.

"Sorry, sorry," Kono murmured, as Jerry bit back a cry of pain. "This good?"

"Yeah," Jerry said, breathless, "okay let's see . . . " His fingers began flying over the keyboard, while the rest of the team waited anxiously.

"It actually worked," Jerry said, in a whisper. "I can't believe it. It actually worked." He turned the laptop around and there it was . . .

There was a blinking green light.

"That's Riley?" Steve asked, his hand reaching out to gently touch the laptop. "You're sure?"

"Well, no, I can't be sure. That's the transmitter. They could have found the transmitter and cut it out of her," Jerry said.

Danny's hands gestured wildly at Jerry, out of Steve's line of sight.

"But that's very unlikely," Jerry amended quickly. "Very unlikely. It's so low-tech, I doubt they would even notice it. But I did just activate it, so now it's sending a signal . . ."

"We need to move," Steve said. "Now."

Chin grabbed the tablet and shoved it at Jerry, and there was a quick murmured conversation, then Chin was by Steve's side, the table clutched firmly in his hand. He pointed a finger at the green light.

"I've got her, Steve," he said. "Let's go get her back."

The team started to rush out the door, but Steve turned back and stepped back to Jerry's bed. He put a hand on Jerry's shoulder, carefully.

"Thank you," he said.

"She's the best friend I've ever had, Steve," Jerry said. "I know that sounds crazy."

"No, it doesn't," Steve said. "I'm sure you're the best friend she's ever had, too. Thank you, Jerry."

A nurse came in the door, quietly. "Can we get this patient back on his pain medication, Commander?" she asked, smiling at Steve.

"He's accomplished his mission, ma'am," Steve said. "By all means, give the man some well-earned relief. Jerry, you hang tight, we'll go get her, okay?"

Jerry managed a smile before he closed his eyes.

"Whatever this stuff is," he said, beaming at the nurse, "I like it. It's really trippy."

#*#*#*#*#

 _Hold on to whatever you can_ . . .

The young nurse with the kind eyes had whispered that to her, Riley was sure of it. Just before the chemically induced fog descended over her, like an unwelcome blanket, the nurse had whispered to her.

 _Hang on to whatever you can_.

Riley pulled up image after image, a mental photo album. It was becoming more and more difficult as the benzos flooded her system, making everything hazy, and she felt memories slipping away.

Associate. Make an association. Olivia had taught her that, when she was a little girl, and they played memory games. _Make an association_ , she ordered herself now. _Hang on to whatever you can._

 _Warm blue eyes . . . sunshine. A flash of dimples . . . the smell of coconut. Dark eyes . . . and strength; strong arms, that had carried her somewhere. Curly hair . . . the quiet clicking of a keyboard, soothing, familiar. Safe._

 _You're stronger and smarter . . . trust me. Strong hands. Familiar voice._

There were no names now, to go with the images. No faces, just bits and pieces. Just the one voice, the one that kept saying she was strong, and smart. Riley held on, mentally repeating and rehearsing the flashes of images with the associated impression.

It didn't take long for her to realize that she was going to have to choose between pushing away the pain and holding on to the fleeting memories. She hesitated, the drugs taking effect, making her body feel heavy and disconnected, her muscles useless. It was becoming difficult to think, the drugs clouding her memory and her mind, but not taking the edge off the pain.

She chose; shifting what little control she had of her mind, she held on to the fragments of memory, and let the pain push back into her awareness. Riley smiled as the pain sharpened her focus and the images and associations became less hazy, more defined. She welcomed the pain, then, let it wash over her, and held on until finally, blissfully, the sedatives took full effect and took her under.

Garrison shook his head in disbelief, his eyes tracking over the tablet he held, as he stood in front of the observation window.

"What is it?" Shelburne asked.

"She chose memory. She chose memory over pain suppression. That was . . . unexpected," he said.

"More benzodiazepine?" Shelburne suggested.

"Only if you want her to stop breathing," Garrison said. "No, now all we can do it wait and hope that when she comes back up, the drugs have done the job and wiped her memory. Then we can . . . direct her ideas. Convince her of our version."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'll bring the car around," Danny said, as they stopped back by Steve's room, where Catherine was waiting for him.

"Kono and I will meet up with you all - back at the palace?" Chin suggested.

Steve hesitated a moment. His team was not going to like what he had planned, but he would wait until they were at the Five-O headquarter to explain it to them.

"Yeah, meet up with you there," he nodded, and Chin and Kono followed Danny, jogging to catch up as he held the elevator for them.

Steve closed the door to the hospital room and locked it.

"Wow," Catherine said, her warm eyes filling with concern. "Tell me."

Steve took a deep breath. "Joe thinks we should run his DNA against mine and Riley's. And Riley had convinced Jerry to tag her with a low-tech GPS tracker. We think we have a location. I'm going after her."

"Wait, Joe thinks - what is he saying, Steve?" Catherine asked, wrapping her small hand around Steve's arm. "That he's -"

"He doesn't know. Apparently there could be some question. I can't - Catherine, I can't think about that now. If I don't get Riley back, it will be a moot point. I have to set that aside," Steve said.

"Okay, I understand. Wow, all the stuff I've heard about compartmentalization . . . it's true, isn't it?"

"Yes," Steve said simply. "Otherwise . . . but Catherine, there's something I don't want to compartmentalize, not any more. When this is over, you and I . .. this thing between us; I haven't been fair to you, Catherine. I want -" He broke off, shaking his head ruefully. "I'm really bad at this."

Catherine laughed softly. "At ease, sailor. It'll keep. I'm not going anywhere."

She cupped his face in her hands, gently, mindful of the various cuts and the bruises that were still darkening. Stretching up on tiptoe, she kissed him, softly, but with unmistakable intent.

"Hooyah," Steve whispered, when they had to come apart for oxygen.

"Danny will think we've snuck out the back if we don't get down to the car," Catherine said, smiling.

Steve looked at her for a moment. "About that," he said, cupping his hand around her face and stroking her jaw lightly with his thumb. "I need you back at Pearl."

"Steve, I'm perfectly capable," she started to protest, stopping as a look came over her face, and realization dawned.

"You're going in alone," she said quietly; not a question. She knew. She knew the side of Steve that the Five-O team had never really seen; she'd been read in, several times, on classified missions when their paths had crossed when he was a SEAL and she was working Naval Intelligence.

"I need satellite intel," he said, "and for once, you already have authorization to give it to me. WoFat could be closing in on Shelburne as fast as we are."

"Okay, Steve, I'll go," Catherine agreed. "Be careful?" That was a question, because that could not be assumed.

He nodded, and bent to kiss her again, soft and sweet and perfect, and she couldn't help it, her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'll be careful, okay? I haven't even introduced Riley to Mary yet, and I want to make good on all of those dinners I owe you. Catherine, I -"

She stopped him with a finger over his lips. "No way. You don't get to say it before a mission, as if you might not have a chance to say it later. And you don't get to say it in a hospital room. After. You get to say it after."

He nodded and smiled at her, holding her hand as they left the room and made their way out of the hospital.

Steve slid gingerly into the Camaro next to Danny, for once, not arguing to drive.

"Catherine coming?" Danny asked, glancing at her as she headed in the opposite direction.

"Catherine is going to provide satellite intel for us," Steve explained.

"Okay, so to the palace?" Danny confirmed, putting the car in drive.

Steve glanced at Danny. "Where's the stuff from my truck? Still at the scene?"

Danny snorted. "No, Steven, the CSI unit had to carefully load, label, and transport all of that stuff back to headquarters. It's locked up in your office. I can't believe you get away with carrying that much live ammunition and . . . I didn't even know what half that stuff was."

"Immunity and means, Danny," Steve grinned. "Back to the palace."

#*#*#*#*#

Doris slipped into Riley's room, quietly.

"Are her vitals stable?" she asked the young nurse.

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse replied, refusing to meet Doris' eyes. Coolly polite, bordering on sarcastic. She made a notation on a clipboard hanging next to the array of IV infusion pumps.

"Then I want you to administer another dose," Doris said.

The nurse looked up at her, dismay evident in her expression.

"Shall I call in another technician?" Doris asked, crossing her arms and staring down the nurse, daring her to argue or question.

"No, ma'am," the nurse said, reluctantly retrieving the syringe and expertly adding it to one of the IVs. "Ma'am, you do realize that this has just a sedative effect; there's no analgesic in this. No pain relief. Her injuries are severe . . . "

"I'm well acquainted with the protocol," Doris said sharply. "How long before this dose starts to wear off?"

"It should last for about two hours, and then she should start to come back around," the nurse said. "I strongly recommend adding a bag of Ringer's; she's becoming dehydrated."

Doris nodded dismissively and stood in silence while the nurse added a bag of fluids to the crowded collection of IV bags pumping into Riley's veins.

"Is that everything, ma'am?" the nurse said, looking at Doris. Defiant.

"Yes; you're free to go," Doris said.

When the nurse slipped out the door, Doris remained standing next to Riley's bed, her back toward the window, her face turned away and her body blocking the angle of the security camera in the room. She slid her hand over Riley's, her thumb rubbing lightly over the skin, reddened and slightly swollen at the edge of the restraint.

"Riley," she whispered, "please, please don't fight it. Please, darling. Please, just go with it; let this work." Her other hand clenched tightly around the file folder, the one with the latest set of orders.

Garrison stood, watching impassively at the observation window, glancing down at a duplicate set of orders: Project Shelburne had until midnight to be established as viable, or the project - and the subject - would be terminated with extreme prejudice.

Doris stroked Riley's hand once more, then schooled her features and turned around, walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind her. She nodded at Garrison.

"She's completely under. Go ahead with the final set of data," she instructed. "When she regains consciousness, she should be completely convinced that she's been rescued, and fully cooperative."

"You understand our orders," Garrison said.

"I understand that this project is going to be a complete success," Doris said. "Our orders are to establish the project as viable, and that's what I intend to do. If you do your job properly, that shouldn't be a problem."

Garrison nodded and walked away, heading toward the computer lab where he would upload the final program, the one he'd created to obliterate Riley's memories of McGarrett and the rest once and for all, and replace them with associations of fear and pain so traumatic . . . she would be so grateful for having been rescued that she would be willing to do whatever was asked of her.

Doris put her hand on the observation window.

"Please, Riley," she whispered.

The nurse came around the corner of the hallway, her thick-soled shoes silent on the floor, and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight: Shelburne, the agent that she had come to fear and loathe, was wiping tears from her cheeks. The nurse made a hasty and silent retreat, leaning against the wall out of sight, and daring to hope against hope that somehow, her patient was going to make it out of this alive.


	25. Reckoning

"No way," Danny yelled, standing in Steve's office, waving his hands wildly. "No way are you going in alone."

Kono and Chin watched anxiously from the center console computer, where Chin was enhancing the signal from Jerry's tracking device, and sending coordinates to Catherine.

"Danny," Steve said. He was trying to be patient, but his voice was tinged with exasperation, as he slapped various velcro straps into place on his vest. He picked up a few more unidentified objects and slipped them into pockets and pouches, moving on automatic.

Danny was afraid of this, had been since Chin identified the location of the tracking signal as a long abandoned civil service field hospital. Steve had smiled, a strange, humorless smile that had sent chills up Danny's spine, and prompted Kono - fearless, never intimidated Kono - to reach out and hold his hand. Danny's fears were further confirmed as Steve picked through the flotsam and jetsam of equipment that had been carefully retrieved from his truck and placed in his office: none of it HPD issue, most of it in what Danny now recognized as Navy Working Uniform Type III - oh, Danny liked to harass Steve, sure, with deliberate mix-ups, but Danny didn't make detective years ahead of the rest of his class for nothing.

"Danny, I'm going into an underground bunker that is probably surrounded with live rounds of ammunition and explosives, dating back to World War II. This is not something for the team. I'm trained for this Danny, you guys aren't."

"Take a Navy team with you then," Danny argued.

Steve shook his head. "There's no time to coordinate, Danny. There's no time, period. I go in, fast, alone, I bring Riley out. There's no other plan, there's no other option. This is it."

"We just stay here, useless," Danny said, his shoulders slumping.

"No, Danny," Steve said. "Chin and Kono stay here, feed me intel. You stay at the hospital with Joe and Jerry, keep an eye on them in case WoFat decides to make a play while we're distracted. In case one of them goes sideways, or remembers something important. You're my command center, Danny, my link to everything. Far from useless." Steve filled a pocket with what looked like first aid supplies, Danny couldn't be sure, because the writing wasn't even in English. He'd lost track of the number of weapons and pieces of equipment that Steve had tucked away on his person.

"You've done this before," Danny observed. Quiet, resigned now to the knowledge that his best friend and partner was about to disappear into some god-forsaken corner of the island.

"More than once," Steve said. He handed Danny his Five-O badge. "Danny, if . . . you'll call Mary, right? Explain . . . make her understand."

"Steve -" Danny said helplessly, but nodded. "You better get your ass back here and explain it yourself, you schmuck."

Steve grinned and squeezed Danny on the shoulder. "Thanks, Danny."

It was two words, but they didn't need more than that between them; hadn't, since the day they pulled guns on each other in Steve's garage.

Steve strode out of his office, Danny falling in step behind him. Kono couldn't entirely suppress a shiver of both intimidation and . . . okay, she was woman enough to admit it, Steve in full SEAL tactical gear flipped quite a few of her switches. She quickly turned her attention back to the computer.

"I have the best point of access, boss," she said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Steep incline, here - you should be able to leave the SUV undetected. It's about two miles from where we think the entrance is . . . although there's really no way to tell."

"That looks good, Kono," Steve said, nodding. "Catherine should be able to confirm entry points using the satellite. Chin, did you get the dosage information from Malia?"

Chin pulled an image up on the screen. "Based on Riley's weight and what little we know of her ability to sustain an increased heart rate, this is what Malia thinks is safe. She said to remind you it's a barely educated guess."

"My pharmacology is based on two hundred pound Navy SEALs," Steve replied, "so her guess is more educated than mine."

Steve studied the map intensely for a few seconds, then nodded briefly to himself and picked up an earpiece. Tucking it into his ear, he nodded to Chin again. "Tac Channel 2," he said. "Thanks, guys. I'll keep you posted as I'm able."

Danny marveled, not for the first time, that over six feet and probably well over two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and equipment could move so quickly and silently, as Steve disappeared into the elevator. As the doors closed, they saw him press his finger to his ear.

"Catherine, what have you got . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"What are the latest readings?" Doris asked Garrison.

Garrison frowned and tilted back in his chair, frustration and exhaustion in every line of his body. "Beta waves are all over the place . . . gamma waves are minimal. She's fighting everything we're trying to do with the imaging and pain stimulation. She doesn't know why at this point, it doesn't appear that she's reasoning at all. She's just . . . fighting it. It's not working."

"Have you tried positive sensory feedback? What about the enhanced pain relief?" Doris asked, her hand clenching again around the file, the one that contained the termination order.

"We could try that, with her conscious," Garrison said. "You forget I can't literally read her mind, Shelburne; just the data waves. I don't know what part of the imaging or programming she's fighting; just that she's fighting it. Beta waves and pain receptors are . . . it's like a lit match in a fireworks warehouse. It probably feels about that way, too," he muttered.

Doris schooled her features. "Perhaps if we administered some pain relief, it would make the imaging run more smoothly," she suggested.

"What do - you know better than that; the science doesn't work that way. That's rewarding her for resisting the programming. No. The beta wave activity makes it clear, she's resisting on a purely emotional level. Gamma waves would indicate some semblance of logic and reasoning; that's why we created the pain feedback to begin with. She stops resisting, she realizes that the pain stops, it becomes a positive sensory loop. Right now she's just -" Garrison threw his hands up in disgust.

"Just what," Doris prompted.

"She's not behaving as expected. This is not how she was trained. Almost two decades, and then when McGarrett et al gets involved . . . " he sighed again. "We are going to be hard pressed to demonstrate the success of the project. In fact, she's derailing half of the modifications. The accelerated healing, for example, which we had hoped was contingent on the genetic modifications? All but disappeared. It may have been the nanotechnology all along. Or . . . I don't know, maybe there was a half-life on the genetics that we didn't factor in."

Doris fixed him with a cold stare. "I was under the impression that the nanotechnology was only activated very recently. With WoFat's cooperation."

"That was an impression, not reality," Garrison said, equally cold. "Nanotechnology was introduced in the early years of the program. What, did you think we just sent a nurse over to deliver immunizations against mumps and measles? Really? You're disappointingly naive, Shelburne. For someone who thought that they were in control of the program all this time, you need to ask yourself if you really knew as much as you thought you did."

"Science and gadgets will only get you so far," Doris replied. "When she comes around, I'll convince her to see things our way."

"Torture? You haven't tried that tactic in a while," Garrison sneered.

Doris didn't even favor that with a response. She swept from the room and slammed the door behind her. Glancing at her watch, she felt panic sweep over her. Hours. She had only hours, before Garrison started squawking that the program . . . that Riley . . . needed to be terminated.

She walked into Riley's room, startling the nurse, who appeared to be hanging another bag of Ringer's lactate.

"What's wrong?" Doris asked, frowning at the nurse. "What are you doing? I agreed to fluids; that's all."

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse said. "And now that she's running a fever, the fluids we've given so far aren't sufficient to prevent dehydration. Now, if I could give her something to reduce the fever, it would also reduce some of the swelling, and give her some pain relief . . ."

"No," Doris said abruptly. "I need her awake, as quickly as possible."

"The sedative should wear off -" the nurse started, but was cut off.

"No. There's no time," Doris said. "Flumazenil, correct? To counteract the benzodiazepines?"

The nurse stared at her, flabbergasted. She pulled down her surgical mask and openly gaped at Doris. "Ma'am. Do you know what . . . there are risks. Serious risks."

"I'm aware," Doris said. "Seizure, cardiac symptoms, yes."

"Death, ma'am," the nurse said bluntly. "Death is a risk."

"That's why this room is equipped with sophisticated life-saving equipment," Doris countered. "And why you, and the other staff, were selected from the most qualified, most experienced applicants."

"I won't do it," the nurse said, squaring her shoulders and standing between Riley and Doris. "I won't administer the Flumazenil. I'll use cold saline, epinephrine, even; but no. I won't be responsible."

"You realize this is a para-military operation and there will be consequences for insubordination; more severe consequences than you would have encountered in the civilian world?" Doris asked mildly.

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse said. "I don't care. The treatment for this patient has already crossed the line into unnecessary cruelty. I refuse to cooperate."

Doris studied her for a moment. "Yes, you do refuse, don't you?" she murmured, almost to herself. "Please stay in the room," she said, addressing the nurse. "I'm going to get another technician but . . . stay."

The nurse looked at her skeptically.

"Please," Doris said, quietly, and the nurse was sure that she saw tears in the agent's eyes.

"Why?" she whispered, instinctively turning away from the mirror.

"For her," Doris said. "Please stay, for her. Please."

The nurse nodded, and watched in confusion as Doris left the room.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve closed the back of the SUV silently, and then smiled to himself as he tossed back the prescribed dosage of anti-inflammatory tablets.

" _So help me, McGarrett, if you fail to complete this mission because you didn't take your head out of your ass long enough to take the damn pills . . . "_

Catherine had made her orders clear as she fed him the most recent satellite surveillance of the site. Lots of recent activity, most of it muffled under cover of darkness, but it fit.

It had to fit, not fitting was not an option, because they were rapidly running out of time.

Steve shifted his tac vest a bit so that it wasn't pressing against his bruised kidney, and then slipped into the cover of dense foliage. He should have no problem covering the couple of miles to the underground bunker, he thought, as he fell into a smooth, familiar pace: swift, but not rushed. As his feet carried him silently toward his goal, he acknowledged and embraced the gentle thrum of adrenaline.

He could imagine Danny looking at him, equal parts exasperated and fond, saying " _You enjoy this . . . "_

He'd never denied it.

#*#*#*#*#*#

The technician administered the Flumazenil dosage without a glance at Riley, though he did sneer at the nurse who'd refused to administer it.

"There you go, ma'am," he said. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you," Doris said.

He left the room with a shrug. He didn't know who the nurse was, they all kept surgical gear firmly in place; it was easier that way. Better not to know anything more than they had to, better not to get attached. He assumed he would never see her again, not if she'd refused a direct order from Shelburne.

"What's your name?" Doris asked the nurse, quietly, turned away from the mirror.

The nurse looked up at her, over the top of her surgical mask.

"There aren't microphones," Doris said. "Just the mirror."

The nurse bent her head over Riley's IV. "Rebecca, ma'am."

"Rebecca," Doris said, "I know you must think . . . there are orders. I can only imagine what you must think of me, but I . . . believe it or not, I'm trying to save this subject's life."

"Subject," Rebecca sighed. "Is that what she is to you? A subject?"

"It's safer for her that way," Doris replied.

"Is it safer for me that way?" Rebecca asked. "Because if so, I've crossed a line, haven't I?"

"Yes," Doris said. "I have very little control over what happens to you at this point. You understand."

"So that's why part of the job application was extensive questioning as to friends, family, loved ones. That's really why I got the job, wasn't it? I'm very good at what I do, and there's no one to notice if I turn up missing," Rebecca said quietly. "Okay. Tell me what you want me to do."

Doris looked at her, briefly. "Keep her alive, as best as you can, if things go . . . badly."

Rebecca nodded. "You are making a horrible decision, and I hope that at some point, you're held accountable."

Doris smiled at her, genuine. "I hope that at some point, you're rewarded for your courage."

#*#*#*#*#

 _Hang on hang on hang on hang on . . ._

Riley had repeated the words to herself to the point where they almost had no meaning, not as language, anyway. But the idea was still there, underneath the fog of sedatives, the steady stream of confusing, conflicting images, and the waves of pain that washed over her.

She'd long ago given up trying to push the pain aside; somewhere, there was a thread of confusion as to why she felt like she should be able to do that, and for a while, she'd worked hard at trying to remember how. But then the images had assaulted her, unwelcome, frightening, and she'd instinctively forced all of her energy into trying to shove them out of her mind.

Names had long abandoned her, but the associations she'd worked to deliberately build lingered. Blue eyes, sunshine. A smile, the smell of coconut. Dark eyes, strong arms. The clicking sound of a keyboard, inexplicably soothing and comforting. And a fragment of a memory, just a sliver, but the strongest of them all: strong hands, wrapped around her own arm, gaping open, bloody. And the voice.

 _You're stronger, and smarter . . . trust me, no matter what . . ._

Her heart rate increased, and the numbing, hazing effect of the sedatives retreated beneath the new onslaught of chemicals. The images became sharper, more confusing, more terrifying.

WoFat, with his needles, and his cattle prod, and with the water. Always, with the water. Riley fought a sense of panic and lost, gasping for breath and fighting against the restraints.

"Riley," Doris said, placing her hand gently on Riley's arm. "Riley, wake up, darling, you're having a nightmare. Open your eyes, Riley."

Riley struggled, choking, but managed to open her eyes, squinting against the bright lights.

"Where am I?" she demanded hoarsely.

"You're safe, Riley," Doris said. "You're safe with us. Do you know who you were with? What were you remembering?"

"WoFat," Riley said. "Who is he? What did he want?"

"He wanted me, Riley," Doris said. "He was hurting you, trying to find me. Do you remember why?"

"There was . . . he wanted Shelburne," Riley insisted.

"Yes, darling, remember, I was writing a story, and stumbled upon Yakuza activity, at the highest level. They came after me," Doris said. "I had to go into hiding, and so did you. Remember?"

"Joe," Riley said. She was suddenly terrified. "But Joe . . . no . . ." she struggled against the restraints again.

"I'm so sorry, darling, I thought I could trust him. But we couldn't," Doris said. "He turned you over to WoFat."

Riley looked at her.

 _Hang on hang on hang on . . ._

"No," she whispered, and closed her eyes against a searing pain, a confusing pain, that didn't seem to be associated with the various body parts she had catalogued as injured. "No, he wouldn't . . . something isn't right. There were others, too . . ."

"There was a rescue team that came for you, Riley, that might be what you remember," Doris said. "Do you remember what happened when they came to rescue you?"

An image of a young man, smiling, and then, falling, and blood . . .

"I shot him," Riley gasped.

"It was an accident, darling," Doris soothed, "but that's why it's so important that you remember, that you get your memory straight. After what you'd been through with WoFat, and his men . . . you created other memories, to protect yourself from what was happening."

Riley shook her head. "It was just WoFat, there weren't . . . there wasn't . . . " she whimpered, hating how weak she sounded to her own ears. She wasn't weak, was she?

No. The voice said that she was strong, and smart.

A pair of dark eyes, over a surgical mask, came into her line of vision. Riley's eyes widened in recognition.

 _Hang on hang on . . . hang on to whatever you can . . ._

"No, there were others," she insisted. "I was with other people . . . they were friends . . . "

"Riley," Doris said, a bit sharply. "You've been rambling about these . . . friends . . . darling, you need to let them go now. You created them to get through the horrible ordeal . . . but you're safe now. With me. You're safe, so just let go, Riley. Just let go of your imagination. I promise, as soon as you do, you'll feel so much better."

"No, there's . . . no, I don't want . . . " Riley bit back a moan of pain, "there are people . . . they will be looking for me."

"Riley, my people were the only people looking for you," Doris said. "We found you. WoFat is dead, he's no longer a threat. You need to just relax, and trust me, and I promise, everything will feel better." Doris hesitated. She had to find out what Riley remembered of Steve; that was the key to the whole house of cards. "There was another man with him, though, who got away. Can I show you a picture?"

Riley nodded hesitantly as Doris pulled out the set of still photos of Steve. She glanced at the cardiac and respiratory monitors as she held the pictures up to Riley. As the readings skyrocketed, Doris allowed herself a moment of optimism. It might be working. It could be working.

It had to be working.

"Darling, do you remember this man?" she asked.

Riley shook her head and bit her lower lip. She was terrified: absolutely, completely, irrationally, utterly terrified. But of this man? Was she supposed to be terrified of this man? She wasn't sure.

"He hurt you, Riley," Doris said softly. Hypnotically. "He is WoFat's right hand man, and he . . . carried out all of WoFat's horrible orders."

"No," Riley protested, "no, WoFat did . . . WoFat is the one who hurt me. I remember."

Riley forced herself to look at the pictures again. There was something, something underneath the mindless fear.

 _You're stronger and smarter . . . trust me, no matter what . . . strong hands. Strong voice._

Belonging to this man. Belonging? To this man? Riley glanced at the nurse, but her eyes simply mirrored Riley's own confusion.

 _Hang on hang on hang on_

Doris flipped through another set of photos, surveillance photos, taken at crime scenes. Photos of Steve looking at those who had maimed and killed innocent people . . . photos of Steve looking as menacing and terrifying as he was perfectly capable of looking, in certain circumstances . . .

"No!" Riley shouted, yanking at her restraints. The leather didn't give, but the bedframe itself made an ominous squeaking, grinding noise. "No, he's not . . . he isn't . . . " Riley turned her head away from the pictures.

"Riley, darling, I'm so sorry . . . we think that you may have developed Stockholm Syndrome. You may have, in desperation, formed some sort of . . . attachment to this person. It's not uncommon, but it's incredibly distressing. If you'll just . . . accept what happened. Accept that this man hurt you," Doris said, smoothing Riley's hair away from her face. "Darling, you just have to let go of these false memories that you've created."

Doris waited for Riley to turn her head back toward her, but she was unprepared for the expression on Riley's face when it happened.

"Riley?" Doris gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Riley, darling . . ."

"Olivia," Riley said, her voice deadly calm. "Stop trying to frighten me."

The tone of the heart monitor changed: still fast, but now steady, and strong. Riley had fixed Doris in an unnerving stare.

"Darling, are you in pain?" Doris asked, trying a different tactic.

"Yes," Riley gritted out, her eyes flashing in fury. "But you know that, don't you, Olivia?"

"I . . . darling, I . . ." Doris stammered. This was deteriorating rapidly. "Let's go, shall we, nurse, and talk to the doctor? Perhaps we can get something for Riley."

The nurse nodded dubiously, and with an anxious glance back at Riley, followed Doris into the hallway.

"I don't think I should leave her," Rebecca said, as soon as the door closed behind her. "I can give her something for the pain . . . "

Doris shook her head, lips drawn in a tight line. She pulled out a key card and swiped it in the door.

"Do not go back in that room," she ordered. "Do not try to circumvent the lock. It's for your protection."

"I don't understand," Rebecca protested. "I thought you wanted me to save her life."

"I did," Doris said. "And now I'm trying to save yours. There was . . . did you see her brain scans? The area of damage, from the seizure. It's the lobe of the brain that differentiates between fear and anger. Hers is damaged. We may have gone too far with . . . with some of the techniques. We've crossed a threshold . . . those restraints may not hold her."

Rebecca shook her head. "Surely there's something . . . we have to be able to do something," she pleaded. She looked through the mirror. "She's agitated, her heart is irregular again . . . she's in obvious pain and distress . . . let me try going back in, no pictures, no talking, I'll just give her a sedative, something for the pain . . . "

"No," Doris said, and her voice broke in a sob. Rebecca reached out instinctively to comfort her, but Doris pulled away. "No, I'll . . . I'll think of something."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono paced in front of the plasma screens.

"I can't see him. I can't see Steve," she said.

"I think that's the point, cuz," Chin pointed out kindly.

"Do you think he'll find her? Get her out?" Kono asked, chewing her bottom lip.

"Yes," Chin replied immediately, without hesitation.

Kono nodded, took a deep breath. "I do too. I think he'll be fine."

Chin shook his head. Steve getting to Riley and getting her out alive was one thing; either of them being fine - that was entirely another.

#*#*#*#*#

Garrison was shutting down the computers when Doris came into the control room.

"What are you doing?" she asked, schooling her features and straightening her spine. She was taller than most of the men in the program; they were studious men, slightly built, not agents. It was second nature to her, to use her physical appearance to her advantage. Her height, in this case. Other advantages, in other cases.

"Shelburne, the program is over," Garrison said. "We've tampered too much, the thresholds are gone. There's no distinguishing now between what is nanotechnology and what is brain damage from the seizure, the drugs . . . the subject is fried. I'm shocked that she's even coherent. I've consulted with the neurologists and they agree. We expect degradation to begin at any point."

"You haven't given it enough time," Doris argued. "At least wait until all of the drugs are flushed out of her system. That will take hours, if not days."

"It's done," Garrison said. "The termination orders are in place. If it's a problem for you, I understand. We can induce a vegetative state . . . see what happens from there."

"I am still the director of this program, and I say that we give it more time. Termination with extreme prejudice is not the only option. We can try chemical or electrical intervention," Doris argued.

"You are not still the director of this program," Garrison said tiredly. "You haven't been, not for the last twelve hours. You've been relieved of duty. Here," he said, handing her a file. "Your orders. You're going back to Tokyo for debriefing."

"Not Langly?" Doris asked, automatically.

"CIA and SAD have disavowed the program," Garrison said. "We're lucky if we come out of this intact personally."

Doris looked frantically at the readouts on the two remaining screens. "Something could change," she insisted. "Ask for another twelve hours."

Garrison stopped, and looked at her. "It's because she fought us, isn't it?"

"What?" Doris snapped.

"You were bored with her. She was a subject, a project. But she fought us, and you felt something for her after all." Garrison shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, far too late . . . I'm sorry. Look, go get your passport and get out. Let me . . . I'll take care of it."

Doris felt pure, unadulterated panic run through her. She squared her shoulders and looked at Garrison.

"Nonsense," she said. "I just think it's ridiculous to make such a hasty decision and waste two decades of research and development. If you lift a finger further I will personally destroy you. I'm going to the director of research and discussing the situation."

Garrison sighed. "Okay, Shelburne, have it your way. But you're not going to get a different answer. The project, and the subject, are as good as terminated already."

#*#*#*#*#

Joe woke with a start.

"Hey," Danny said, looking up tiredly from where he had dozed off in his chair. "You okay, Joe?"

"Yeah," Joe rasped.

Danny stood, stretched the kink out of his back, and retrieved a cup of half-melted ice chips from the counter. He held out the cup to Joe, who managed to get some into his mouth.

"Thank you," he said, handing the cup back to Danny, who stood watching him impassively. "Go ahead and say what's on your mind, Williams."

"That was a dick move," Danny said. "Calling Steve in here, knowing he was going to try to go after Riley, and telling him . . . making him question . . . it was a dick move. You're an asshole."

Joe nodded. "Would it have been better to let that idea come from his mother, you think? Or find out, accidentally, the next time one of them is so seriously injured that we start talking organ failure? When would have been a good time to tell him, do you think?"

"I'm not sure," Danny said. "How about, when you were about to fall into bed with his mother? That might have been a good time to reconsider options. Or maybe when he was testing their DNA the first time. 'Hey, Steve, while you're at it, here, check mine, too'. I'm not sure, Joe, but today . . . today was not a good day."

"I had to be sure he heard it from me, first," Joe said. "And you're right. About all of it. But I had to be sure that he heard it from me first, or he would never trust me again."

"I'm not so sure he should trust you again, period," Danny said.

Joe smiled at him.

"What?" Danny asked, suspicious.

"You're a good friend, Williams," Joe said, and closed his eyes.

#*#*#*#*#

"Catherine, I'm close," Steve murmured into his headset. "I need to go radio silent."

"Copy, Commander," Catherine said. "Good luck."

"Cath -" Steve swore to himself. There was so much to say, and he'd wasted so much time in not saying it. "Thank you."

"You got it, sailor," her warm voice came back. "Resume communication when you are safe to do so."

"Copy," he whispered, and moved forward.

They were expecting almost anything: a SWAT raid, more Naval Intelligence teams, even a SEAL team. They were definitely expecting Five-O; small, tight, quiet.

What the men standing guard outside the bunker were not expecting was one solitary Navy SEAL, hell-bent on retrieving his baby sister. They didn't hear anything or see anything, and they didn't feel anything, either. Their bodies fell silently and then disappeared into the dense growth surrounding the bunker. Steve felt remorse at each strike . . . he always did, and dreaded the idea that the day would come if he wouldn't. He slid more images and memories into the part of his brain that stayed locked down the tightest, and moved forward.

The last one, the one standing immediately in front of the door, had a key card in a tactical pocket on the front of his vest. Steve slid it smoothly in the door and it beeped green. Depositing the card in his own pocket, he slipped inside the door and closed it silently behind him.

Joe had said to look for computer equipment and medical supplies, so Steve scanned the dark, deserted hallway for any sign of cables or wiring. The bunker was so old, there would have to be massive external cables run . . . it was also highly, highly unlikely that there were any sophisticated surveillance systems in place. A quick glance did not show any signs of security cameras, and Steve continued to move silently down the hall.

He reached the end and looked around in frustration. Straight, left, or right . . . the halls were equally dim, identical in appearance. He could easily spend hours just searching for some sign of activity. He risked stepping into the corridor where the hallways intersected, and closed his eyes, listening.

A faint hum, to his left, prompted him to turn that way. He stayed close to the wall, thankful for the dim lighting which allowed him to blend into shadow. As he reached the end of the second hallway, the hum was growing louder. He stilled at the corner, and heard footsteps approaching.

He was six feet of tightly coiled energy as the footsteps came to the end of the hall, and his arms extended and snapped back so quickly that an observer would have sworn the petite nurse rushing down the hall had simply vanished into thin air.

Steve found himself with an armful of white labcoat; his hand covered a mouth that was already covered in a surgical mask. He turned the slight, obviously feminine body around, keeping his hand firmly over her mouth.

"I'm not interested in hurting you," he whispered. "I'm looking for someone; a young woman, probably injured."

Rebecca nodded, her eyes wide above the mask.

"You can't scream, do you understand?" Steve said. "I won't hurt you, if you stay quiet."

She nodded emphatically, and he carefully moved his hand, just a bit.

"You're him," she blurted out in a whisper. "They showed her pictures of you . . ."

"She's alive?" Steve asked, relief flooding through him.

"She's seriously injured, and there's . . . well, there's a lot going on that I don't understand," Rebecca said. "I've overheard the word termination. Shelburne locked me out of the room, I can't get back in. Riley - that's who you're looking for right? - she needs pain medication, she needs a sedative . . . but not benzos, she's had too many, she -"

Steve broke off her rambling. "I need to get her out, and I don't have much time. Is she stable?"

"She was, mostly, when I left her," Rebecca said. "It depends on how much more stuff they've shot her up with. Benzos, and then Flumazenil. You don't know what that is, do you," she guessed, taking in Steve's blank expression. "I'll come with you. I can help."

Steve hesitated. "No, it's not safe. Who uses these rooms?" He glanced up and down the hallway.

"No one, as far as I know. It's just the one project here," Rebecca said.

Steve tried a door, and it opened, squeaking a bit on worn hinges. "Will you hide here? I'll come back this way with Riley."

Rebecca nodded immediately.

"Look," Steve said, as she started to close the door behind her. "I'll do everything in my power . . . if I don't make it back here, try to get out. What's your name?"

"Rebecca."

"Okay, if this goes sideways, Rebecca, try to get to Five-O, tell them who you are and that you were trying to help me. They'll do whatever they can for you, okay?"

She nodded. "Go, quickly. She's in a treatment room down that hallway . . . there's a one-way mirror. The door is locked, though, and there's restraints . . ."

Steve nodded tersely. Locks and restraints weren't an issue for him.

"Stay quiet," he cautioned once more, and then he was gone.

A quiet, empty hallway would have been nice, but as he approached, he could hear signs of activity. He paused at the final corner and listened.

"All I know, is that Garrison said to collect all of the computer equipment, intact. Apparently they'll turn it over to the analysts, see if they can figure out where they went wrong," a voice said.

"I heard they turned the subject into a vegetable," another voice replied. "They've given up; pulled the medical staff out and everything. Locked the door." There was a pause, and furtive movement. "Look, you can look in." A shuffling sound.

"Damn, that's . . . that's not right. You don't leave a human suffering like that," the first voice said.

Steve felt his stomach turn.

"Come on, let's get out of here," the second voice said. Footsteps, again, this time receding.

Steve stepped into the hallway, his steps silent and sure. There, the mirror . . . he looked in and stood for a moment, frozen in shock. Riley was restrained, wrists and ankles, to a narrow, metal gurney. There didn't appear to be a mattress of any kind, and Steve's aching ribs and kidney twinged in sympathy. The heart monitor was beeping erratically as she struggled against the restraints; her eyes were sunken and feverish in her pale face. Her lips were moving, mumbling . . . Steve watched, tried to make it out . . .

 _Stronger . . . smarter . . . no matter what . . ._

"That's my girl," Steve whispered, grabbing the keycard out of his pocket. If it worked, he might just be able to pull this off. If not . . . he held his breath and slid the card in the door. A beep, a click, and the door released. That was the beauty of ancient bunkers . . . they resisted all but the most primitive of upgrades. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, sliding the key card through the lock again.

"Riley," he whispered, approaching the gurney carefully.

Her hazel eyes turned slowly toward him and widened in absolute terror.

"Riley, I'm so sorry," he said softly, his heart breaking. "I know you're so, so very frightened right now. Can you remember anything, anything that's different from what they told you? Is there something that just doesn't seem to fit?"

Riley nodded.

"Okay, good, that's good," Steve said. "I know that you probably think you can't trust me, but I promise, you can. I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you, okay? You can trust me."

"No matter what," Riley whispered, and then gasped as she was overwhelmed with pain.

"I'm so sorry, Riley," he said. "I'm going to cut through these restraints, okay? I have a knife, and it's big, and it probably looks really scary, but I'm just cutting the restraints. You with me? I want you to close your eyes, keep them closed until I tell you to open them."

Riley nodded and closed her eyes. Steve made quick work of the restraints on her ankles, first, his mouth a grim line at the broken, bleeding skin. He cut one wrist free, his eyebrows raising at the bent metal underneath. Moving quickly to the other side, he cut through the restraint carefully and sheathed his knife right away. Riley flinched as he touched her arm, the one that she'd cut open in desperation.

He turned her arm over gently, his finger tracing the already healing scar, surprised to find it looking more inflamed and even oozing a bit of blood. He felt Riley still beneath his touch, and ducked his head to look at her.

"Hands . . . " she murmured. "You fixed . . . "

"Yeah," he said gently, "I fixed your arm. Do you remember?"

"I remember those hands," she said, looking up at him in confusion. "They belong to you?"

Steve nodded. "These are my hands. Riley, do you have any idea who I am?"

Her eyes clouded in confusion. "Doris says you are with WoFat. She says that you hurt me."

"Riley, it's not true," Steve said earnestly. "I need to get you away from here, okay? Can you trust me enough to come with me? And we'll figure out the rest, I promise."

Riley rubbed her wrist absently and nodded, trying to swing her legs over the side of the gurney. She winced and inhaled sharply.

"Hold on, let me get rid of these IVs and pulse ox monitor . . . " Steve murmured, looking back anxiously at the door. He assumed that someone was monitoring Riley's heart rate from another room, and disconnecting it would close their window of escape rapidly.

He heard a noise and turned, putting himself between Riley and the door, and raised his SIG. A woman was closing and relocking the door behind her. She turned around, her hands held up, holding a flash drive in one hand.

Steve stood in disbelief.

"Mom?"


	26. Reckoning 2

"Steven," Doris sighed. "You have to hurry. There's no time. I gathered everything I could." She thrust the flash drive at him, and he hurriedly secured it in one of his many pockets.

"Mom, I - what -" He stepped in front of her as she approached Riley. "Don't touch her."

Doris reached out and touched him instead, cupping his face in her hand. "I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of both of you. I never realized . . ." She paused, studied his face. "You're injured, too."

Steve shrugged. "Concussion, bruised kidney. I can manage. How bad is Riley?"

"Concussion, bruised ribs, hairline fracture in her collarbone. You can see the lacerations . . . her right knee is likely sprained, and there was blunt trauma to her right hip. Her entire right side . . . but her left side, we think, was protected somehow," Doris said. "There wasn't . . . it wasn't supposed to happen that way. I never . . . "

"Well, a lot of things that weren't supposed to happen seem to have happened," Steve said bitterly. "You're coming with me; I want answers."

"Steven, I can't come with you," Doris said. "But I can buy you time to get out, safely, with Riley."

He hesitated.

"Steve," Doris said sharply, "there is no time. The program has been shut down, disavowed. A termination order has been given. I tried . . . I tried everything to change their minds but Riley . . . she wouldn't accept the programming. She is as stubborn as her big brother." Movement behind Steve caught her attention. "Riley, don't . . . "

Steve turned in time to see Riley pulling out her IV with a shaking hand. He gently pushed her hand aside and slid the IV out, pressing his thumb briefly over the vein.

"I want to leave," Riley whispered.

"We're going to leave," Steve assured her. He glanced down at the pulse ox monitor. "How many people come running when this goes silent?" he demanded of Doris.

"None," she answered. "That was for the nurse's benefit. We didn't need . . ."

"Oh, yeah," Steve said coldly, "you don't need that to track anything, do you?"

"Steve, you have to understand . . . " Doris pleaded.

"I don't have to understand anything," Steve said tiredly. "I'll never understand . . . really, Mom? CIA, SAD? Were we just a cover story for you, all along? And Riley . . . did dad even know?" He stopped cold. "Joe . . . Joe said we needed to run our DNA against his. Is he right?"

There was noise from the hallway, and Steve dropped quickly to the floor, crouching under the mirror.

Doris gave a stern look toward the mirror and pointed, then busied herself with one of Riley's IV bags. The noise receded and Doris's shoulders slumped in relief.

"There is no time, Steven," she said urgently. "You can stay and demand answers or you can get your sister out of here safely; it's your choice."

Riley looked between the two of them in confusion.

"Olivia?" she questioned.

"Shh, everything is going to be okay," Doris said. "You need to go with Steve."

"But you said . . . " Riley broke off, looking at Steve with apprehension.

"Yes, I did, but you didn't listen, not really; because you are stronger and smarter than we ever gave you credit for," Doris said.

 _Stronger and smarter . . ._

"Riley, I swear, I'm not going to hurt you," Steve said. "You can trust me."

 _Trust me . . ._

"No matter what," Riley murmured.

"She's not going to make it far unassisted," Doris warned. "I don't think it's safe to administer any more drugs," she added quietly.

"No, it looks like she's had plenty," Steve said. He didn't bother to hide the reproach in his voice.

"What were you going to do?" Doris asked, curious, as they helped Riley off the gurney. "Where were you taking her?"

"Tripler," Steve said. "We figured adrenaline caused some sort of . . . we were going to try it."

Doris nodded. "It might have worked, then. She's well past that now. There's no time to explain . . . you should know that we crossed thresholds. The programming, the nanotechnology . . . it's degrading rapidly. I'd hoped that the genetic modifications explained the accelerated healing, the pain suppression . . . I'd been lied to, Steven. It was nanotechnology all along. It started when she was just a toddler . . . "

"So you're saying that . . ."

"The entire system is crashing, Steven, that's why they pulled the plug on the program," Doris said.

Steve looked at her in horror. "She'll be okay, though, right?"

"The modifications will be . . . you need to get her into an MRI. That will permanently disable all of the nanotechnology. The information is on the flash drive," Doris said.

"So she'll be . . ." Steve wasn't even sure what he was asking, it was too much information to process at once.

"She'll be what she has always been," Doris said gently. "Strong, smart, stubborn . . . just like you. Now, you have to go. I'll create a distraction. Go. Quickly."

Steve scooped Riley up into his arms, grunting as pain flared in his lower back. Doris swiped the key card and unlocked the door, holding it for them. She looked into the hallway.

"It's clear; everyone is busy shutting down and gathering their equipment," she said. "No one wants to be associated with a disavowed program any longer than they have to be; it's all about looking out for personal interests now."

"Where will I find you?" Steve asked. "You need to explain -"

"This is much bigger than any one of us," Doris said emphatically. "Individual needs -"

Steve cut her off. "Never mind. Riley has explained to me your philosophy on individual needs."

"Steven, I . . ." Doris hesitated. "I thought I was doing what was best. My intentions . . ."

"Yeah," Steve said. He tightened his hold on Riley, wincing as she whimpered in pain. "Well, here's your chance to prove it, I guess."

Doris's eyes filled with tears at the expression of disappointment on his face. He looked once more into the hallway to be sure it was clear, and then he was moving swiftly and silently, leaving Doris to watch helplessly after his retreating form.

#*#*#*#*#

"Do we have EMS and SWAT staged and ready, Captain Grover?" Chin asked, still watching the plasma screens anxiously.

"We're standing by," Grover's voice came back over the speaker on Chin's phone.

Kono was on the phone with Catherine. "Anything? Any movement?"

"Not yet," Catherine said. "This is one of those cases, though, where no news is hopefully good news."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny, why do you keep checking your phone?" Jerry asked, one eye open, blinking owlishly at Danny.

"Hey, Jerry," Danny said, smiling at him. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Did it work? Did the tracking device work? Did Steve get Riley back?" Jerry asked, rapid fire.

"Well, as far as we know the tracking device worked," Danny said. "Steve went in alone. That's all I know so far, Jerry. You doing okay? You need a nurse or anything?"

Jerry shook his head. "You'll tell me . . . if you hear anything . . " He was fighting to stay awake.

"Yeah, Jerry, I'll tell you," Danny assured him. "It's okay, you go ahead and rest."

Jerry's eyes closed, and Danny looked at his phone once more.

"Come on, partner," he muttered. "You are not leaving me to explain this to Mary."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve paused in front of the door where he'd left Rebecca. He was taking a huge risk; she could have alerted any number of people, who could now be waiting in ambush for him. Setting Riley gently on her feet, he waited until she was steady, leaning against the wall, and carefully opened the door.

"Rebecca?" he whispered.

A head popped around the edge of the door, and Steve smiled. Clever; she'd stayed back and out of sight.

"Do you have Riley?" Rebecca whispered. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, we need to get out of here quickly," Steve said. He moved to pick Riley back up, but she shook her head.

"You're hurt," she protested.

Steve started to argue, but a sharp look from Rebecca had him rolling his eyes instead. "Okay, fine," he said. "Rebecca, can you help her, and I'll cover us."

Rebecca slipped an arm around Riley's waist, and they headed for the exit, with Steve sidestepping behind them, his weapon at the ready. They reached the end of the hallway, and Steve motioned for Rebecca and Riley to stay back. He'd disabled the guard on the way in, but that didn't mean another hadn't replaced him.

He slid the key card in the lock and eased the door open. There didn't appear to be anyone on the other side, and he motioned Rebecca forward. Just as she reached the exit, loud exclamations echoed down the hallway behind them.

"The subject is not in the treatment room!" a voice yelled.

"Where the hell is that nurse? And where is Shelburne?" another voice yelled back.

"Lock it down! Lock everything down!"

Red lights started flashing as a shrill siren filled the hallway. Riley gasped and covered her ears with her hands. Steve sympathized; it wasn't doing his splitting head any favors, either.

"Go, go," he said, urging Rebecca out the door. She was half dragging, half carrying Riley.

Steve pulled the door closed behind them and looked at Rebecca, struggling to support Riley.

"She's barely conscious," Rebecca said. "The drugs . . . she was given something to counteract the sedatives but there are so many risks involved. The concussion and injuries alone . . . not to mention whatever the hell else it is that was going on . . . it's not good. She needs medical intervention quickly."

"Sweetheart, this isn't going to be comfortable, but I have to get us out of here fast," he said, as he bent and picked Riley up in a fireman's carry which left him free to use his SIG. She barely responded; he could feel her pulse pounding as he wrapped his hand as gently as he could around her wrists, and her skin was burning to the touch.

"I need you to keep up, and keep your eyes open," he said to Rebecca.

She nodded swiftly. "I can do that," she said. "Give me a back-up."

Steve grinned and pulled out a small Heckler & Koch out of a holster hidden beneath his tac vest. Rebecca racked it expertly and flicked off the safety. "You know how to use this?" he asked, but the way she hefted the firearm told him plenty.

"My dad was Baltimore HPD," she said, shrugging.

"Okay then," he said, "let's move out."

Rebecca kept pace with him easily, which concerned him. Under normal circumstances, a civilian, especially a petite civilian in scrubs, should never have been able to keep up. He was aware of a growing pain in his lower back, and each step he took reverberated in his pounding head.

He fished his radio out of a pocket, awkwardly, and looped it around his ear.

"Catherine, do you copy?"

There was a blast of static, and then Catherine's reassuring voice.

"Steve, I'm here. What's going on? We see two heat signatures moving away from the bunker," Catherine said.

"That's us," Steve said. "I have Riley, and there's a nurse who was with the program. She's with us, she helped me find Riley. Copy? I have a civilian in my party who is a friendly."

"Copy that, Steve," Catherine said. "Chin?"

"Copy," came Chin's calm voice. "Steve, we have HPD SWAT with a medic unit staged about one mile back from your SUV. Is it safe for them to move forward?"

Steve hesitated. "Not yet, we're not clear enough from the -"

His voice was cut off as an explosion detonated behind them, shaking the ground. Steve staggered, falling to his knees. He eased Riley to the ground and spun around, still on his knees, to see Rebecca on the ground behind them. He began checking Rebecca frantically for injuries, but she waved him off.

"It's just leaves and bark, I'm fine," she said. He still looked mildly panicked, and she snapped her fingers in his face. "No shrapnel," she said firmly. "No shrapnel, I'm fine. I'll check Riley," she added, kneeling next to Riley and checking her pulse.

"Steve?" Catherine's voice crackled. "The whole bunker just went up . . . it's . . . Steve, it's obliterated."

Steve stood, looking back towards the bunker in shock.

"Steve?!" Both Catherine and Chin's voices came over the radio.

"Yeah, yeah, we're okay," Steve said. "Catherine, do you see any heat signatures moving from the bunker?"

There was a long pause.

"Nothing coming your way, Steve," Catherine said quietly.

"Going away, the other direction? Anything?" Steve said, looking around.

"Nothing. There's . . . Steve, there aren't any heat signatures moving at all," Catherine said. "You're clear."

He stood, looking back toward the bunker, frozen in disbelief. Shelburne. Shelburne, his mother . . . the distraction she had promised. He hesitated, the fleeting thought of going back for her entering his mind even as he watched the billows of smoke and now, flames, licking over the tops of the trees.

A firm tug on the pocket of his cargoes drew his attention down. "Sir, she's not . . . she's not doing well."

"Steve," he said absently.

"Steve," Rebecca said, taking in his shocked expression, along with the sudden pallor of his skin. She stood up and held out her hand to him. "Steve, I want you to check on Riley for me, okay? You look like someone who has field medic training. Can you do that, please, and let me talk to whoever is on the radio? Excellent," she said, as Steve handed her the radio and knelt down next to Riley.

Rebecca grabbed the earpiece and shoved it in her ear, looping the device around, fumbling, until the microphone seemed to be in the right place.

"Hello?" she said, uncertainly.

"Hello, this is Lieutenant Catherine Rollins and Officer Chin Ho Kelly," Catherine said, "what is the situation? Is Commander McGarrett alright?"

"I think he's in shock," Rebecca said. She stood behind Steve and slipped her fingers against his neck. "His pulse is rapid and thready, he's suddenly a bit absent . . . was he injured before he came here?"

"Concussion and bruised kidney," Chin confirmed.

"Well, shit," Rebecca said succinctly, "that explains so much. Okay, is there any way you can get some people in here? Because I am not sure that I can handle these two on my own."

"Chin," Catherine said, "I'm still getting zero readings on heat signatures. I think at this point the risk of injury is outweighing the risk of possible pursuit; would you agree?"

"I agree," Chin said, "Grover, move a SWAT team and a SWAT medic team to the coordinates I send you. As far as we can tell, there are no hostiles; you are going in for Commander McGarrett and you've got two injured. Take the vehicles as close as you can, but you'll likely need to move on foot the last half mile or so."

"Thank you, Officer Kelly," Rebecca said.

Steve was reaching impatiently for his radio, and Rebecca handed it back to him.

"Catherine," Steve said, "keep surveillance for any indication of a heat signature moving away from the bunker. Call Tripler and have them set up an MRI for Riley; I'll explain later. I've got to get her out . . . "

Rebecca placed a calming hand on his arm. "Steve, they're coming for us."

"Chin?" Steve questioned.

"Steve, we've got HPD SWAT and medics coming to you," Kono chimed in. "Stay put. Listen to the nice nurse and do what she says, okay?"

Steve rubbed a hand across his face and looked at Rebecca in confusion. "When did they put you in charge?"

Rebecca smiled fondly at him. "When you went into shock. It's okay; we're okay. Let's take care of Riley, how's that sound?" She knew his type well, had grown up around men who epitomized the phrase, 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall'. Clearly, he'd reached his limit, but he would be the last to recognize it. The best she could do for him was keep him focused on Riley.

"Here, I want you to lean up against this tree," Rebecca instructed, "and I'm going to shift Riley over to you . . . there we go," she said, easing Riley's head onto Steve's lap.

#*#*#*#*#

"We've got them, Danny," Kono said, clutching her cell phone to her ear, and hugging her knees to her chest. She'd slipped into her office to call Danny, and suddenly it was all too much - the strain, the worry, the endless moments of radio silence. "Grover is sending in a SWAT unit, and medics, and there's a nurse with them, and they're okay, except Steve is in shock, and no one said anything about Riley, other than she's hurt, and what if -" Kono broke off in a sob. "What if after all this something bad still happens?"

"Babe," Danny said, his voice warm with understanding and sympathy, "oh, honey, it's going to be okay. Steve and Riley are made out of pretty strong stuff, right? It's going to be okay. Are they coming here?"

Kono sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "Yeah, Steve said something about having an MRI ready for Riley? But Tripler; he definitely said Tripler."

"Okay, so you and Chin should probably head over here, too, yeah?" Danny said.

"Kono?" Chin said, poking his head in her office and looking around in confusion. "Oh, there you - why are you on the floor? You okay?"

"I gotta go, Danny, I'll see you soon," Kono said, hanging up the phone.

"Hi," she said, looking up at Chin. "I just, um . . . "

Chin smiled down at her kindly. "You just needed a moment?" He slid down the wall to sit next to her, and grabbed her hand. "I think I need a moment, too."

#*#*#*#*#

"Boy, am I glad to see you guys," Rebecca muttered, as the medic team reached them.

"What have we got, ma'am?"

"This one," Rebecca said, pointing to Steve, "apparently set out with a concussion and a bruised kidney, then hiked in several miles, engaged in - well, there were guards, and then there weren't, and that's all I want or need to know - and then retrieved this one," she continued, pointing to Riley. "Based on his pallor, pulse, and respirations, my guess is that the kidney is at least diffusing blood, if he hasn't gone and torn something vital."

"I'm fine," Steve protested, scowling.

"Of course, Commander," the medic sighed, flashing a penlight into Steve's eyes.

"Oh, hey guys," Steve said, smiling up at them. Familiar medics. Always nice. He could usually talk the HPD medics into treating and releasing him on scene.

"Hey, Commander," the other medic offered, "don't even try, sir, you're going straight to Tripler."

"Okay, and this patient?" the first medic said, turning back to Rebecca, who was helping set up the stokes basket to carry Riley.

"Severe concussion, deep lacerations, which were stitched but I'm sure some of the sutures are not holding; careful, she has a hairline fracture of the collarbone, watch that shoulder," Rebecca cautioned, as they lifted Riley into the basket. "Deep contusion on the right hip, bruised, possibly cracked ribs on the right side. The biggest problem is the overdose of benzodiazepines and a subsequent dose of Flumazenil."

"Shit," the medic muttered. "Sorry, ma'am," he added.

"No apologies," Rebecca said grimly. "How are her vitals?"

"Shaky," the medic said tersely. "What else?"

"She's semi-conscious," Rebecca continued. "And she stays much calmer if she can see his hands, so we can't separate them. There's a lot I don't know how to explain . . ."

"It's classified," Steve said, hauling himself to his feet with the help of one of the SWAT officers. "And you wouldn't believe us if we told you. We need to get her to Tripler."

Steve refused assistance, walking beside Riley as they moved as swiftly as possible toward the waiting medic and SWAT vehicles. He did accept a water bottle that the medic pressed into his hand, and took a swig. As they reached the trucks, Steve frowned when he realized that there wasn't enough room for Rebecca in the back of the medic unit.

"She's with us," he said, addressing the SWAT officer in charge, his demeanor no less imposing for being in obvious pain and shock. "She needs to be at Tripler."

"I understand, sir," the officer said. "I'll bring her myself."

"Okay," Steve said, wincing as he climbed into the back of the medic unit, where the medics were busy hooking Riley up to blood pressure and pulse ox monitors. "Rebecca," he said, leaning back out of the truck, "thanks. I - we'll explain more, I promise. Thank you."

She nodded at him, then helped close up the back of the unit, and smacked it soundly.

"Wow," she said to herself, watching it pull away. "That was . . . not another day at the office."

The SWAT officer grinned. "No kidding, ma'am. You know who that was, right?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Probably not . . . it's complicated."

"That's Commander McGarrett; he's head of Five-O. The governor's task force," he tried to explain. "You're not from around here, are you," he decided, as Rebecca looked confused. "That's his sister. Word has it, bad people had her, he went full SEAL - which he does, from time to time - and went in after her. All I'm gonna say is, you can be glad that you got on his good side."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "His sister . . . that explains so much . . ."

"Come on, ma'am, I better have you at Tripler by the time he's there," the officer said, guiding her toward his squad car.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny, Chin, and Kono were pacing inside the emergency department bay when the sirens announced the arrival of the SWAT medic crew.

Steve stubbornly refused help as he climbed down out of the back of the medic unit and rushed to Chin.

"Here," he said, shoving the flash drive into Chin's hand, "get this to Jerry and see if we can make any sense of it. It's what my moth - it's what we have on Riley; with any luck it will give the doctors something to work with."

Chin nodded and took off at a quick pace.

"How is she, Steve?" Kono asked anxiously.

"She's . . . I don't think she knows who I am," Steve said.

Two doctors approached Steve, gloved hands held at the ready.

"Commander McGarrett, your team told us to have an MRI ready, and we do," said the first doctor. "I'm Dr. Link and this is Dr. Reeves. What can you tell us?"

"I was instructed by a source that I trust, that an MRI is the safest way to neutralize some nanotechnology that is degrading rapidly," Steve said.

Dr. Link studied him for a moment. "Do you have any reason to believe that the instructions would be deliberately harmful? A sabotage of any sort?"

Steve looked at Danny helplessly. "Danno, I . . . she said . . ." Steve hesitated. "What do I do, Danny?"

"Trust your instincts, babe," Danny said.

"Sirs, she's becoming agitated," the medic said, apologetically, pushing Riley's gurney closer to them.

She was muttering and trying to shove herself off the gurney.

"Hey," Steve said, stepping to her side, the SWAT medics backing away. He wrapped his hand gently around her forearm, the one that had been sutured on her last visit to Tripler, and turned it over. His thumb traced gently over the scar. "Hey, it's okay, Riley. We're at the Army hospital, at Tripler, and you're safe. You've actually been here before."

She calmed, looking at his hand. She glanced up at his face, but looked back down quickly.

"Your hands?" she asked.

"My hands," Steve said firmly.

Danny and Kono looked on curiously, but before they could ask anything, a petite, slightly dishevelled young woman in scrubs pushed her way through the bay to stand beside Riley.

"Sorry I'm late," she said cheerfully. "Hi, Riley." She looked at the doctors. "I'm Rebecca, I was Riley's nurse at the . . . facility," she said carefully, glancing at Steve for approval. He nodded slightly.

Dr. Link looked relieved. "Let's get her into a treatment room and get a history," he said. "I just need as complete of a medical history as possible," he said, holding up a hand to Steve. "I understand the situation is . . . unique. I'll leave that to you to sort out, Commander. I don't need to be read in on the situation, just the medical facts as they pertain to her condition. And Dr. Reeves should be familiar to you, Commander - she was the doctor overseeing your treatment before you convinced us to release you."

Steve looked sheepishly at Dr. Reeves. "Hello, Dr. Reeves."

Dr. Reeves put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at Steve. "Pain, shortness of breath, slight disorientation?"

Steve started to argue, but Rebecca slid into his line of vision, standing next to Dr. Reeves.

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. "But I can't leave Riley. Not only for her comfort, but for your protection. Everyone's protection. And I think it's important that Rebecca stay with her as well; she seems to trust her."

Dr. Reeves rubbed her eyes and glanced at Dr. Link. "Okay, well, we'll work it out. Should we just move this entire operation to the secure wing?"

Dr. Link nodded.

"My people are still there?" Steve asked. He loosened one of the straps of his tac vest; it seemed impossibly tight, suffocating. "Danny? Yeah, let's . . . shit -" he broke of with a sharp gasp of pain.

"Okay, Commander, you'll be no use to her if you go down," Dr. Reeves said, emphatically. She gestured to an orderly for a wheelchair, but Steve held up his hand in protest. "Commander -" she started.

"Ma'am," Steve said, "The idea of sitting . . . "

Dr. Reeves' face softened in sympathy. "Okay, sailor," she said. She pointed to Kono and Danny. "You two, can you manage him?"

Danny and Kono raised their eyebrows at each other and shrugged. Kono noticed Steve pulling at his tac vest again, and she quickly loosened more straps and pulled the entire vest, loaded with equipment, over his head. He took a breath and nodded in relief.

"We seem to manage, somehow," Danny said. Steve rested one arm around Danny's shoulders and kept his other hand firmly on Riley's gurney; Rebecca on the other side.

"Alright, let's get this moved to the secure wing," Dr. Link said, and the group made their way to the bank of elevators.

The narrow space of the elevator forced everyone to stand in a cluster around Riley's gurney. Steve wrapped his hand gently around her arm, and looked down to see her watching Danny and Kono. Danny noticed, too, and he smiled gently at Riley.

"Hey," he said, his blue eyes warm and kind, crinkling.

"You're real," Riley breathed. "Sunshine . . . " She looked at Kono, who also smiled softly at her.

"Hello, Riley," she said. "Do you remember us?"

"Coconut," Riley said, tilting her head at Kono curiously. "I . . . coconut?"

Steve brushed a hand across his eyes. "Kono rubbed coconut oil on some of your injuries, before," he said softly. "Do you remember?"

"I remember coconut," Riley said, her eyes drifting closed.

"That's how she did it," Rebecca murmured. All eyes turned to her. She looked at Steve, unsure of how much to say.

"Go ahead, Rebecca; the doctors have to be read in, if they're going to help Riley. That's why we're at a military hospital," he said.

"There was programming," Rebecca said. "The whole thing fell apart because the programming didn't work. They kept saying that she was fighting it. That's how she did it - she built associations. She probably doesn't remember your names yet, or how she knows you - but she built positive associations that . . . well, that were strong enough to withstand the negative programming. I only know the general idea of the procedure; I suspect you'll find more on that flash drive."

"Okay, so I get the coconut, but . . . sunshine?" Kono teased, poking Danny.

"I get it," Rebecca said, smiling at Danny.

The elevator dinged, and Dr. Link carefully pushed Riley's gurney through first, the rest falling in behind him.

Chin was waiting for them in the hallway. "Guys, Jerry had no problem opening the files on the flash drive, and I think you're going to want to see this right away." He paused, turning his tablet over in his hands. "It's not pleasant; I'm sorry," he added.

Dr. Reeves nodded. "Okay, double room, right here. With your permission, Commander McGarrett, can we all be read in to this at the same time? Because you're clearly not leaving Riley, your team is clearly not leaving you, and I'm not letting you go any longer without at least checking that kidney and getting you started on an IV. Can we all agree to multi-task?"

There were nods all around, and within moments, Chin was standing at the end of a generously sized, well-equipped hospital room, holding the tablet. Riley was quickly hooked up to cardiac and respiratory monitors, with Rebecca murmuring explanations as Riley appeared to drift in and out of consciousness.

"We need to get her in an MRI," Steve fretted, "and for God's sake, can't she be given something for the pain?" He gritted his teeth against his own pain, as Danny helped Dr. Reeves ease his shirt over his head and loosen his belt.

"Commander, I know you're anxious," Dr. Link said, "and we are going to help her as fast as we can, but I think we better get a little more information, or we could do more harm than good. We'll find out as much as we can from Rebecca and from Lieutenant Kelly, and then we'll proceed." He turned to Rebecca. "She's obviously dehydrated and running a fever; I assume it's safe to push fluids?"

Rebecca nodded, still working on setting up the pulse ox monitor, and Dr. Link reached for an IV kit. He tore open an alcohol swab and wiped the back of Riley's hand. There was a blur, and then blood was pouring from his nose. His obviously, painfully, broken nose.

Dr. Link stepped back carefully from Riley's gurney and everyone in the room froze in shock, staring at Riley.

"No more," she said firmly, her voice eerily calm and strong. She was focused entirely on Dr. Link, and Steve was fairly certain that a hint of a smile was on her face. As they watched, a flicker of uncertainty passed through her eyes, and she looked at her hand, smeared with a bit of Dr. Link's blood, and then glanced around the room, her eyes wildly confused.

Rebecca stepped carefully into her line of vision.

"Riley," she said, "I'm going to start an IV for you; it's fluids, just fluids, nothing else. I promise. Is that okay?"

Riley nodded. She looked back at Dr. Link. "Sorry?" she said, hesitantly.

Kono grabbed a handful of paper towels and held them out; Dr. Link accepting them with a pained smile and nod, and pressing them gingerly to his nose.

"What the hell was that? A glitch in the matrix?" Danny murmured.

"Not too far off," Chin said, gesturing to his tablet. "From the data that Shelburne gave Steve, I can give you the big picture. I tell you, if Jerry hadn't seemed to think all of this was perfectly plausible, I'd find it impossible to believe. What we just saw may be explained by this," Chin said, flicking a file onto the small screen.

Dr. Link pointed with one finger to a spot on an image of Riley's brain. "Damage to the bilateral amygdala," he said, mumbling from underneath the wad of papertowels, and Dr. Reeves and Rebecca nodded.

"In English, for the rest of the class?" Danny prompted.

"The center of the brain that processes fear and anger," Dr. Link explained. "There's some damage; either from blunt force trauma, though that seems unlikely. More likely from . . . a seizure, perhaps."

Steve nodded. "She had a seizure."

Chin flicked open another file. "And they knew it. After the seizure, they were able to flood her mind with images. Steve, I'm so sorry . . . they alternated images of you with direct stimulation to the pain centers of her brain."

"But how? Remotely?" Dr. Link asked, skeptical.

Chin pulled up another file. "I don't begin to understand it, but yes. With nanotechnology."

Dr. Link nodded. "I understand the concept; we've hoped for years that nanotechnology could be applied to soldiers with massive injuries . . . I just didn't realize it was being done." He shook his head. "What a waste of good technology. This could be helping people, not . . . "

"So they made her afraid of me," Steve said, "that's how they did it. While she was unconscious."

Chin nodded. "And then once they had her . . . it continued. The notes indicate that they attempted programming using your images, Joe's . . . all of ours. Alternated and integrated with nanobyte and chemical means to intricately link those images with sensations of pain and fear."

Steve limped over to Riley's gurney, wrapping his hand around her forearm, his thumb rubbing gently.

"And she fought it?" he asked Rebecca, his voice rough with emotion.

Rebecca nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "She fought it so hard. Shelburne was angry at first, but then . . . I think then she was . . . proud. I don't understand. They wouldn't . . . " Rebecca had to stop and clear her throat. "They wouldn't administer any sedatives, or pain relief. They said that wasn't how the programming worked."

Riley's eyes fluttered open again and landed on Rebecca. "You said hold on," she whispered.

Rebecca wiped tears from her eyes. "Yes, yes, I did," she nodded. "I didn't know that it would cause you so much pain, though; I'm so sorry . . . I didn't understand quite how it all worked."

"'S'okay," Riley muttered. "Held on."

"Yes, you did," Steve whispered. "I'm so proud of you." He turned to Chin and Dr. Link. "Is she still actively fighting the programming? Now that we've gotten her away from there?"

Rebecca nodded. "It's not like a switch; she'll fight it until she accepts it, or . . . well, I don't think they had a contingency plan. I don't think it ever occurred to them that she could successfully fight it."

"So she's still . . . it's still hurting her?" Danny asked.

Rebecca nodded, brushing away more tears and then stroking Riley's cheek. "Yes," she whispered, "she has to be in excruciating pain; that, and the dehydration and fever, is why she's in and out of consciousness."

"The programming could still - okay, we have to hurry," Steve said urgently, pleading with Chin and Dr. Link. "We can't let her - figure something out. How does the MRI factor in? What do the most recent files say?"

Dr. Link looked over Chin's shoulder as they quickly flipped through file after file of notes.

"It says here that Shelburne gave up after one last effort to convince Riley that Steve had . . . oh, God, Steve," Chin said, looking up in horror. "They tried . . . everything WoFat did to her, they tried to convince her that it was you . . . but she refused to accept that explanation, even when Shelburne tried to convince her it was Stockholm syndrome; she also refused to accept that the Five-O team members were figments of her imagination. The program was deemed a failure, and -" Chin broke off, horrified.

"Terminated," Rebecca said softly. "The program was to be terminated."

"Okay, so they were going to terminate the programming, using an MRI?" Steve asked. "That's what my - that's what Shelburne said; to get her into an MRI, it would shut down the technology."

Rebecca and Chin looked at him sadly.

"What?" Steve asked. "Come on, Chin, what does the file say? How were they going to -" He broke off, realization dawning. "They were going to terminate the program. Not the programming. The program. Riley. They were going to kill Riley." His voice was flat with shock.

Danny stepped next to him, his strong hands wrapping around the tattoos on Steve's biceps, grounding him.

"But they didn't? Right? Because you went in there and got her out. Okay, so Shelburne said an MRI would . . . would what?" Danny prompted.

"She said it would destroy the nanobytes, and that Riley would be . . . just Riley. No tech," Steve said, his voice still dull with disbelief.

"Okay, so does that fit?" Danny demanded. "Does that fit with what you're reading?"

Chin's fingers flew over the tablet as Dr. Link answered. "From what I can tell, from a fast read of the files, yes."

"Jerry says yes as well," Chin said, reading a message from their conspiracy theorist.

"Well, then we have to do it," Steve said. He looked at Dr. Link. "Please."

Dr. Link nodded, wincing as the movement jarred his broken nose. Kono silently held out a red hazard waste basket, and he gratefully dropped the towels in.

"You should go get that fixed," Dr. Reeves said quietly.

"No, I'm taking my patient down for an MRI," Dr. Link said, smiling at Steve. "Set it back for me, Melissa," he said, turning to Dr. Reeves.

"You sure?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow, but she stepped over to him even as she was speaking. "Okay, on three," she said. "One, two -" there was a resounding cracking sound which made everyone in the room jump.

"That is hard core," Kono murmured, impressed.

"Well, that experience was not totally wasted, then," Dr. Link said, smiling at Kono. "Okay, Rebecca, you and I will take Riley down for an MRI. I'm going to call and clear the floor. The fewer new faces she has to deal with the better. And I'm going to call a research physician I trust, in DC, to help me determine the settings for the MRI. Can you assist?"

Rebecca nodded and started shifting the leads and IVs so that Riley could be moved, while Dr. Link stepped into the hallway, his phone in hand.

Riley's eyes fluttered open again, and Steve paced back over to her. She flinched away from him, and searched his face, her eyes clouded with confusion. He carefully placed his hand over hers, and turned her arm so that his thumb traced over the scar there. Her eyes watched the movement carefully, and she relaxed.

"How does that work?" Kono asked quietly.

"She must have a very strong positive association with that, somehow," Rebecca said, looking up at Steve.

"Riley's arm was . . . injured," Steve said carefully, looking at Riley. "I stitched it up for her. I think she remembers that."

Riley nodded slowly. "Why?" she asked.

"Shhh," Steve said. "We'll talk about it later, when you're feeling better, okay? You're going to go with Rebecca, and Dr. Link, and they're going to help you feel better. It's okay, I'll be right with you."

"Yes, unfortunately, right with her to the radiology suite," a voice behind him said softly.

Dr. Reeves had slipped behind Steve while he was leaning over Riley, her deft fingers palpating the bruising on his back. He had barely paid attention to what she was doing.

"You're going to have a CT of this kidney, Commander," Dr. Reeves said. "And you're getting on the gurney, and getting hooked up to an IV, no more stalling."

Steve started to argue, but she held up her hand. "Detective Williams, will you please give Commander McGarrett a brief update on the bruising that you can see?"

"Steve," Danny said, his voice filled with concern. "It's bad, partner. Really bad."

"Commander, I know you are compartmentalizing, I know your SEAL training has kicked in," Dr. Reeves continued, "but the adrenaline that is allowing you to focus on Riley is not going to last much longer. My guess is that the minute she goes into the room where you can't follow, into the MRI, you're going to crash, and hard. I know you're in shock, and I suspect it's partly because you've got more active bleeding going on with this kidney. We need to get ahead of it, or you could be in emergency surgery just about the time that Riley needs you. Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

Steve looked at Riley again, torn.

"You're hurt," Riley said, "I remember . . . Shelburne was asking . . . " Riley peeked around Steve and looked at Dr. Reeves. "He has a concussion, too," she informed the doctor.

Steve shook his head and grinned down at Riley. "So that, you remember?"

A slow smile spread across Riley's face. "Yes," she said. She was still smiling, but clearly baffled. "I'm confused," she said.

Rebecca laughed softly. "You're trying to figure out why it's making you happy, that you told the doctor something about Steve?"

"Steve?" Riley said softly, and he nodded in confirmation.

"You're happy, because you just ratted out your big brother," Rebecca said carefully.

Danny grabbed Kono's hand and held it, both of them holding their breath to see Riley's reaction.

Tears slipped down Riley's cheeks. "I don't remember," she said quietly.

"It's okay," Steve assured her. "It will come, in time."

Dr. Link came back into the room. "Okay, let's get this show on the road," he said. "The MRI department is cleared out and ready for our use."

Steve squeezed Riley's arm gently once more. "I'll be right behind you, Riley." He looked at Dr. Link. "Can Danny and Kono go with you? I don't want her to be alone," he said, anxious.

Dr. Link nodded, and Danny poked Steve in the shoulder.

"Behave, Steven, and do what the doctor says," he said, then turned and followed Riley's gurney out the door.

Dr. Reeves let Steve watch until the door closed behind them.

"Gurney. Now," she said, looking up at Steve, who towered over her, pointing at the bed.

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, and sat down on the bed obediently.

Dr. Reeves arched an eyebrow at Chin. "Will he cooperate with you, Lieutenant Kelly?"

"I think I can help, ma'am, though you seem to be doing remarkably well," Chin said, barely suppressing a smirk as he helped swing Steve's legs onto the bed, and began unlacing his boots.

Steve was panting with pain as Dr. Reeves started an IV. "What did I tell you, sailor, hmm?" she murmured sympathetically. "Okay, so this is fluid. The ride down and the CT will take a while. Please; let me give you something for the pain. I won't knock you out, I promise. But we need to try to cut back on the amount of adrenaline you're churning out. You know as well as I do that the adrenaline dump after this is going to be brutal."

Steve nodded reluctantly, and Chin looked at Dr. Reeves in alarm.

"Lieutenant?" she asked quietly, noting his expression.

"I've never seen him willingly agree to medication," Chin said, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder. If Steve heard him, he gave no indication.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was vaguely aware of light, and sound, and soft voices. It seemed to him like there was something important . . . something very important . . . that he was supposed to be doing. Something . . . someone he was supposed to take care of.

He shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching.

"Steve? Steve, babe." A voice. Danny's voice.

"D'no?" His throat was impossibly dry.

"Hey, buddy," Danny said. He reached for a cup of ice chips.

"Danny, what . . . Riley!" Steve exclaimed, struggling to sit up.

"Babe, it's okay, hold on," Danny said, holding out a spoonful of ice chips. "Here."

"Danny, that doctor promised she wasn't going to knock me out," Steve said, around a mouthful of ice chips. "What the hell, man; you're my medical proxy. Did you sign off on that?"

Danny held up his hands in front of his face, trying to ward off the wrath of one very pissed off SEAL.

"Steve, Steve, whoa. First, Riley is okay," he said, standing up and leaning his head around a curtain. "Can we . . . okay, thanks." He carefully pulled back a curtain, and Steve was able to see Riley.

"Okay?" Danny said, pointing to the curtain.

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, and Danny dropped the curtain back down.

"So, Super SEAL, you have a very badly bruised kidney, and you passed out on us. CT came back; good news, there's no need for surgery, bad news . . . " Danny winced.

"What, Dann- oh," Steve said, shifting again. "And there's a catheter."

"Yeah."

"Riley. Tell me about Riley," Steve demanded.

Dr. Link appeared at the end of the curtain. His nose was an impressive array of purple and blue, with bruising extending outward, under his eyes. "Commander McGarrett," he said, holding a chart in front of him. "At this point, to the best of our admittedly limited knowledge, Riley holding steady. She seemed to tolerate the MRI well. She seemed to be in and out of consciousness before the procedure, but she had a short period of time after the procedure in which she was, as far as we could tell, completely lucid. She was somewhat uncooperative, because she was demanding to see you and we couldn't make that happen, as you were having an emergent CT at the time. We reviewed all of the files, and based on that information and on the bloodwork, we determined that it was safe - and high time - to administer a mild sedative and some pain relief. She's resting comfortably now. There's some concern about her fever, but we're monitoring it. We will, of course, continue to go over the files, and Rebecca will explain more to you, but that's what you need to know for now."

Steve sagged back onto the pillows in relief, and brushed a shaky hand over his face.

"Now, there's something else I think you'll want to see," Danny said, his blue eyes crinkling. Steve could hear the sound of the door opening and closing quietly.

"Hey, sailor," Catherine said, appearing around the edge of the curtain.

Dr. Link smiled at Steve. "I'll go back to Riley now; and I'll also let Dr. Reeves know that you're back with us."

"Thank you," Steve said, but his eyes were fixed on Catherine.

"Cath," he said, swallowing hard around a sudden lump in his throat.

"Ah, before I go," Danny said, shifting, "there's something that I think Catherine and I should tell you . . . together."

Steve looked at him suspiciously. "How long was I out?"

"Well, long enough for me to make a decision, with Catherine's input, I hasten to add," Danny said, edging closer to Catherine, "actually, it would be more accurate to say that we made the decision together. Jointly. Equally."

"Danny," Steve said, his voice a low warning.

"We called Mary, Steve," Catherine said, coming to stand next to him. She brushed a kiss over his cheek. "I have contacts at Barstow, someone went and spoke with her, explained that you had been injured, though you would be just fine, and offered to see to it that she had safe transport here, if she wanted to come."

Steve looked down at the blanket covering him, picking at a thread. "Did she? Want to come?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, actually, she really did," Catherine said. "We didn't want her flying commercial, not with WoFat still unaccounted for, so it will be a couple days. We've got her on a comfortable flight, not cargo. But yeah, she's coming, as long as that's okay with you."

Steve nodded, still not looking up. "Yeah," he said, his voice choked. "Yeah, that's more than okay with me. Thanks." He looked up, his eyes watery.

"Okay, then," Danny said. "I'm just . . . ah, I'm gonna go, make the rounds, check on Jerry and Joe, and . . . mostly, I'm gonna give you two a few minutes." He grinned broadly at the two of them and then ducked around the curtain.

"Cath, I -" Steve broke off. "I don't . . . " His breathing turned shallow and rapid.

"Steve," Catherine said, taking his hands in hers, and sitting carefully on the edge of his bed. "Are you in pain? What it is?" Her voice was calm.

"No, I'm . . . I don't think . . . Cath, my mom . . . our mom . . . " Steve panted, "and Riley, and I don't . . . "

"Hey, hey," Catherine soothed, cupping her hand around his face. "Okay, we're going to breathe. Right now, we're just going to breathe, okay? You know the drill, sailor. Four in, four out. Come on, do this with me."

Steve focused on Catherine's warm brown eyes and let her coach him through breathing until he felt steadier.

Dr. Reeves knocked quietly on the wall just outside the curtain. "Commander?" she called out quietly.

"Yeah," Steve said, his voice stronger.

Dr. Reeves pulled the curtain back a few inches and stepped into his side of the room.

"You gave us a bit of a scare, Commander," she smiled. "May I -" she gestured to Catherine.

Steve wrapped Catherine's hand in his. "Yes, absolutely. This is Lieutenant Catherine Rollins, Naval Intelligence."

"Lieutenant," Dr. Reeves nodded. "Commander, your CT scan revealed massive bruising of your kidney, as we expected. There may be some microtears in the vessels connecting your kidney to your body - it's not a terribly tight fit, for an organ, and very susceptible to violent movement - like you would have experienced when your truck was attacked. As I'm sure you know, we see this injury frequently in -"

"Yeah," Steve said, clearing his throat. "Yeah; I was . . . yeah. Afghanistan."

"Okay, then. Now, we don't see any indication for surgery, but - and I can't emphasize this enough - you absolutely, positively, have to rest. We'll be monitoring your intake and output of fluids carefully, to be sure that your kidney function continues to improve. You had enough slow loss of blood and dehydration to put you into shock," Dr. Reeves explained.

"I get it, doc," Steve said. "How soon can I . . . move freely about the cabin?" he quipped, gesturing toward his midsection.

"When I'm convinced that the bleeding has stopped, or slowed to an acceptable level," Dr. Reeves said archly, "and not a minute sooner. It's one way to keep you still; or so your medical proxy informed me. Now," she continued, "it looks like your sister is waking up."

"Riley," Steve said, trying to sit up, craning his neck around.

"Stand down," Dr. Reeves scolded. She pushed the curtain back all the way. "I'll be back to be sure you're following orders," she added, smiling, as she left the room.

"Hey," Steve said quietly, looking over at Riley. He was hesitant; not knowing if she yet remembered who he was.

"Steve?" she asked. Rebecca was standing close to her, adjusting an IV, and she gently patted Riley's hand.

"Yes, see? We promised you he was okay," Rebecca said. "Here, let me . . . " she kicked a couple of levers and started to gently push Riley's bed toward Steve's, and Catherine moved quickly to help her.

Riley reached out her hand, carefully, and Steve took it in his own, turning her wrist gently and stroking his thumb over the scar on her forearm. It was even more inflamed than before, and part of it had been covered with a bandage. Riley's eyes were fixed on the movement of his hand, and tears fell down her cheeks.

"Hey, honey, it's okay," Steve said. "You're safe."

"I don't . . . I remember bits and pieces and . . . I don't know what's real and what isn't," she said.

"We'll figure it out together, okay?" Steve said, rubbing her arm gently. "Rebecca, I was told that the advanced healing . . . that was all nanotechnology?"

Rebecca kept her hand gently on Riley's as she started to explain. "So, from what we understand from the files, once the nanotechnology started to fail, some of the effects of the nanotechnology started to reverse. Now, the good news is, Riley is free from anyone interfering with her, ever again, using those nanobytes. As a result, though, some of the accelerated healing started to reverse."

"So, if the healing was all nanotechnology . . ." Steve said.

"Riley is, unfortunately, suffering the full effects of her injuries," Rebecca said. "But, apparently you McGarretts are made of strong stuff, because she is handling it like a trooper."

Riley looked at her in surprise. "But . . . I cried," she whispered.

"And what on earth is wrong with that?" Rebecca demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

Riley frowned. "I don't remember," she said.

"Well, good," Steve said. "That's one thing that I'd be very happy for you to forget."

Riley tilted her head at him, pondering. Steve smiled; it was obvious that she was still confused, but he could see the familiar intelligence and curiosity in her eyes, mirror images of his own. Her eyes had drifted to Catherine, who smiled at her gently.

"Hello, Riley," she said softly.

"Riley, this is Lieutenant Catherine Rollins," Steve said. "Do you . . . do you remember her?"

Riley rolled her eyes at Steve. "Please. The walls in your house are thin."

Steve laughed heartily as Catherine blushed. "Well, okay then. You remember Catherine," Steve said. He looked at Rebecca for confirmation.

"There was no record of any images of Catherine," Rebecca said. "Her memories of Catherine would be, um, untampered with."

"Being a little sister is definitely coming back to you," Catherine teased gently.

Riley grinned - the lopsided grin that had been one of the first indications that she and Steve were more than strangers whose paths had crossed thanks to WoFat. Her eyes blinked slowly as her pain medication and sedatives started to pull her back under.

"I . . . there are other people," she said, struggling to stay awake.

"Yeah, there are," Steve said softly, "and they will all be so happy to see you, in just a little while. Rest, Riley. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe."

"Hmmhmm," Riley mumbled. "Olivia told me. WoFat is dead. He can't hurt me any more." Her eyes fell closed and her breathing evened out.

Steve looked at Catherine, confused. "Did I miss something? I thought you said WoFat was still unaccounted for."

"To our knowledge, he's still in the wind," Catherine said.

"It must have been . . . to try to win her confidence. Catherine, my mother, she . . . "

Catherine covered Steve's hand with hers. "We're still processing the scene, Steve," she said gently. "So far, we haven't recovered anything that we can link to your mother. The evidence is being combed through, sifted through, but . . . so far, nothing. She may have made it out."

"I just - at the end, I think she did what she could," Steve said.

"Yeah," Catherine said. "Yeah, Steve, I think maybe she did." She brushed her hand across his cheek, threading her cool fingers through his hair. "I think you need to rest right now, though. It's been a long day. It's going to take a long time to sort all of this out." She kissed him on the forehead, and started to turn away from his bed.

"Cath," he said, reaching for her with the hand that wasn't still holding Riley's. "Stay?"

Catherine's face lit up in a smile. "Yeah," she said, pulling up a chair.

Steve shook his head, and patted his hand on the bed next to him. He scooted over, wincing in pain at the movement. Catherine carefully eased her body onto the bed until she was snuggled securely next to him; her head resting on his shoulder, and his hand wrapped securely around her waist. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her shampoo.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny, Chin, and Kono stood in the doorway, smiling.

"Well, would you look at that?" Danny whispered.

"He still has his IV in, and everything," Kono marveled.


	27. Remembering 1

"Hey," Danny whispered, gently shaking Catherine's shoulder.

"Hmmm?" Catherine murmured. "Danny; I'm sorry . . . I didn't realize I'd drifted off."

Danny grinned at her. "It's been a long . . . I've lost track of how long it's been. They need to check Steve's vitals and . . . stuff."

"You were sent in to recon?" Catherine smiled, accepting the hand Danny offered to help sit up. Steve's hand tightened around her, and he made a small sound of displeasure.

"Hey, sailor," Catherine said, "it's okay, they just need to check you over."

Steve cracked open his eyes. "Naturally. Because they couldn't possibly let me rest comfortably. That wouldn't be the Army way," he groused. "How's Riley?"

"All clear?" Dr. Reeves said, poking her head around the curtain. "Everyone decent? Nothing exciting happening in here?"

Steve glared good-naturedly at her. "I'm a Navy SEAL but even I have limits," he said, grimacing and gesturing in the vague direction of the catheter.

"That's my cue to leave for sure," Catherine said, chuckling. "Come on, Danny, let's find some coffee."

"Let's see how quickly we can get you . . . what was it you said - moving freely about the cabin?" Dr. Reeves said, smiling at Steve.

"How's Riley?" he repeated, as Dr. Reeves busied herself with checking his vitals and recording his fluid output.

"She is doing well, all things considered," she said. "We'll get to give you a more detailed report, but she's in and out. They have her on a pretty strong cocktail of sedatives and painkillers. You are improving, I'm glad to say. We should be able to pull that Foley if you'll cooperate with us continuing to measure input and output." She peered at Steve over the edge of her clipboard.

He rolled his eyes, and regretted it. He'd forgotten the concussion. "Can I do that as an outpatient? I need to get back to the office. I need to coordinate with Naval Intelligence; we have a situation -"

"Fine," Dr. Reeves said, shrugging. "The catheter stays in."

Steve groaned. "Okay, okay," he said, quickly, before she could leave. "Fine. I'll stay, I'll . . . measure. Whatever. Can I at least have a laptop and a secure line?"

"That can be arranged," she said, pulling on a pair of gloves. "If you're willing to let us move Riley one room over. She doesn't need to be in the middle of whatever operation you have going on."

Steve winced at the cheerful way Dr. Reeves snapped her gloves, and nodded morosely.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had insisted that Danny stay with Riley; and tucked away the not-unpleased look on Danny's face to think about later.

"Okay, catch me up," Steve said. "Beginning to end, I need to know everything there is to know."

Chin simply handed him the tablet, and then he and Catherine sat quietly in chairs, giving Steve time to try to read and comprehend.

Steve silently paged through file after file; swallowing hard when he got to several pages of Doris' personal notes. Catherine held his hand, and brushed a kiss across his knuckles.

"Shit, Chin," Steve finally said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "How will I ever - how do we get past this?"

"By focusing on getting you and Riley healthy again," Chin said, "and then . . . just one day at a time."

"Who do I look for first?" Steve asked. "Doris or WoFat?"

"All available resources are searching for both," Catherine said. "So first, you look after yourself and your family."

A quiet knock at the door interrupted them.

"Hey, partner," Steve said, as Danny stuck his head in. "What's up?"

"Riley; or she will be soon," Danny said. "They think you should be there when she wakes up."

Steve nodded and gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I got it; I got it," he muttered, and Catherine rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. He made his way, painfully and slowly, but unassisted, to the room next to his.

Riley was drifting on a sea of painkillers and sedatives, and it took her a while to follow the sound of Rebecca's voice.

"Riley?" she was saying.

Riley managed to get one eye open. She vaguely recognized Rebecca, and standing behind her . . .

"Hey, Sunshine," she murmured.

The blue eyes crinkled with a smile, and there was a laugh right next to her.

"So, that nickname is gonna stick, Danny, I'm telling you," a voice said.

Riley tried to follow the sound of that voice. It was a good voice, and it belonged to good hands. The voice told her that she was strong and smart.

"Hey, sweetheart," the voice said, and her eyes cooperated, finally, and focused.

"Hey," she said, smiling. She tilted her head at the sight of Steve, sitting right next to her. "I thought maybe I had a bad dream. Is . . . do you have a concussion and a bruised kidney?"

Steve nodded slowly.

"Oh," Riley said, "you came; you came for me in that place . . . that wasn't a dream?"

She looked at Rebecca again. "You were there," she said, looking between Rebecca and Steve in confusion.

"She was, Riley, but she helped me get you out," Steve said firmly. "It's okay; you're safe now."

Riley put her hands to her head. "It was real? All of that was real? Olivia . . . Olivia is Shelburne, and, she knew. She knew, and she helped, and -" she broke off, her breathing rapid and shallow.

"Riley, look at me," Steve said, taking her hand in his, turning her arm over and stroking the still healing scar with his thumb. She calmed as she focused on his hands. "Yes, the woman you knew as Olivia; the woman I knew as Doris . . . our mother . . . was Shelburne. And she did know, and it's terrible, I know. But she also helped me get you out. She gave me a flash drive full of files, and information, so that I could help you. And we are pretty sure that she blew up the bunker so that we could get free."

"Did she get out?" Riley whispered.

"We don't know, honey," Steve said. "Catherine . . . you remember Catherine? Yeah. She has a team working very hard to find those answers for us. But right now, more than anything else, you need to rest, and heal."

"It hurts," Riley said. "It hurts a lot, and usually I can make it stop, but now I can't."

"Riley," Rebecca said gently, "you've been through an awful lot, and we're just figuring out it. I'm sure everything feels very differently to you than it did before, but please try not to let it frighten you, okay? You have some really painful injuries. The pain you're feeling is to be expected, I'm afraid."

"It's okay," Riley said, "it's better than feeling so fuzzy. I'm still not sure . . . some of it can't have been real, but it seems so real . . ." The readings on her cardiac and respiratory monitors increased.

"What parts don't seem real, babe?" Danny asked. He glanced at Steve, concerned; he had a feeling exactly the parts that Riley couldn't figure out. "You were deliberately given some false information to work with. That might be the part that doesn't make sense now."

Dr. Link had slipped quietly into the room; he was now sporting a lightweight splint over his nose, with spectacular bruising showing underneath. He tilted his head toward the monitors by way of explanation. "It seemed there was an important conversation starting," he said, kindly. "It's okay, Riley. You're safe here. All of the drugs should be clear from your system, and I'm sure you're starting to remember bits and pieces. We've found, in cases like this, that going ahead and putting everything in order, while difficult, can be less frightening than dealing with uncertainty. So, go ahead, tell us what you remember. Steve and Danny will help you sort it all out, okay?"

Riley looked at him uncertainly, then glanced at Steve.

"It's okay, Riley," he said, his thumb still tracing over her wrist. "Start -" he broke off uncertainly, looking up at Dr. Link.

"You were with her when she had the seizure?" Dr. Link asked Steve, who nodded. "Okay, let's start there. Let's see if we can re-establish an accurate short-term memory timeline for her. We'll worry about long-term later."

"Riley, do you remember being in the house up on top of the ridge?" Steve asked quietly. "It's your house; Hideki Mokoto left it to you. Remember?"

Riley nodded. "It's beautiful . . . the architecture is Japanese. It smells like sandalwood and teak."

"Yeah, it is beautiful. You seem really happy there," Steve said. "We were there."

"And Joe, and Jerry," Riley said, her eyes widening in horror. "Something happened, and . . . it hurt. It hurt so much, and we left, and -" She stopped cold. "That's how you got hurt. Are they dead? They aren't here . . . the keyboard. That's all I could hang on to, of Jerry, was the sound of the keyboard but now I remember . . ." She grabbed Steve's hand with hers.

"They're okay, Riley," Steve assured her, quickly. "They're here, at Tripler. Joe's beat up, and Jerry has a really serious fracture, but they're okay. They're going to be okay. Do you remember what happened? At the house."

"Jerry and I were setting up a secure line, and . . . lights. I remember strange lights, behind my eyes, and then . . . I don't remember," she said, frustrated.

"That was probably the seizure," Dr. Link commented quietly, glancing at the monitors. "Riley, you're past due for pain relief, let me -"

"No, please," Riley said. "Please, not until I remember what happened."

"Okay," Dr. Link said, shaking his head reluctantly.

"I have an idea," Rebecca murmured, as she fetched a coldpack and activated it, pressing it gently against Riley's collarbone, and tossed another one to Steve. "Put that against her hip . . . there. How's that, sweetheart?"

"That helps," Riley said. "Thank you. I don't remember having a seizure," she said, frowning.

"You wouldn't remember it," Dr. Link assured her. "But from what Steve described, and what we could read from the . . ." he hesitated, ". . . from the records that were kept, that's what happened."

"I was . . . I was still at the house but there - I was afraid," she said, looking up at Steve in confusion. "I was afraid of you?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, there . . . Riley, do you remember, we discovered there was technology."

"Yes. Shelburne was watching; always watching. And trying to make me - they tried to make me shoot Charlie," she said.

"RIght," Steve said, "but you didn't. Okay, the same technology . . . they tried to make you afraid of me."

"We were going to go somewhere," Riley said, closing her eyes. "I was riding with Jerry." Her eyes flew open. "There was an explosion and Jerry - your truck, it flipped, and Jerry almost made it all the way around, and I was yelling at him to stop - did I hurt Jerry?"

"No, no, you didn't hurt Jerry," Steve assured her. "Shelburne's people kept coming after you. Jerry almost got away, he did great, but there were too many of them."

Riley's eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were all dead," she whispered. "Jerry, and you, and Joe. It hurt so bad, and Jerry tried to cover me, and I thought he was dead. They pulled me out of the SUV; I remember. There were . . . they had Jeeps. It . . . it hurt. I think I passed out."

"God, I hope you did," Danny muttered. "It would have been a small favor."

"What do you remember next?" Steve said. "Do you remember waking up?"

Riley nodded. "You were there," she said, looking up at Rebecca. "But I could only see your eyes. And then there was more . . . I kept dreaming; terrible dreams, it was awful. About . . . " she paused. "The team. Five-O. It's real?"

"Yes, absolutely," Steve said firmly. "You're part of the team. It's real."

"I don't understand; Olivia said . . . she said I'd imagined all of it," Riley said. Her hands began to shake under Steve's.

"Riley, it was the technology," he said softly. "They were using it against you. They were trying to convince you that you were safe with them." It was the gentlest way he could think of to explain the psychological torture that had been inflicted on her.

"They told me that the team was something I had created," Riley said. "Olivia. Olivia said that I had created the team as . . . as an escape, because you -" her voice broke, and she closed her eyes, looking down at Steve's hands again.

"Riley, it wasn't me; God, I swear to you, they created that memory. It wasn't me, it was . . . " he hesitated, looking up again at Dr. Link. "Sorry, I don't know how to try to help her remember without -" he broke off helplessly.

"WoFat," Riley blurted out. "WoFat hurt me . . . he electrocuted me and - there was water - I remember. It was WoFat. It wasn't you. It wasn't you and she tried - she said it was you." Tears began to slip down her cheeks. She shoved her hair out of her face impatiently.

Danny fished around in his pocket and came up with a hair elastic - Gracie was forever pulling hers out and handing them to him; he'd long ago stopped even bothering to keep track, and just let them go through the laundry and stay put in his pockets, for when she inevitably needed one. He stepped behind Riley's bed and raised it gently - wondering what it said that he knew how to operate the beds at Tripler as well as the nurses - and gently gathered her long wavy hair in his hands. With infinite gentleness, he began to weave her hair into a braid, just as he had done before. Rebecca watched in amazement.

"No, it wasn't me," Steve said. "It wasn't me, Riley. That part wasn't real. And the team - your friends, Catherine, Jerry - that's real."

"Why?" Riley whispered. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't know why she started," Steve said slowly. "But at the end . . . it was the only way she could think of to save your life. She was trying to prove the technology worked, and you were fighting it . . . she was trying to save your life. It was all she had left."

Riley studied Steve for a long moment, and he reached up and gently brushed the tears off her cheeks.

"No," she said finally, her tone flat, cold, and angry.

 _No_ , Danny thought. _Not angry_. He was an angry person; he knew anger. This was . . . rage. It sent a chill up his spine, and he wrapped the elastic around her hair and stood back, instinctively putting Rebecca behind him. Dr. Link took a healthy step away from the bed, as well, so Danny knew this wasn't his imagination. Only Steve seemed unmoved and unafraid, as he sat, still brushing his thumb over Riley's wrist; the smooth, repetitive motion that seemed to calm them both.

"No," she repeated. "It wasn't all she had left. She could have called you. She should have known you would come after me. You'll always come after me."

Steve smiled, fondly, and nodded. "Yes, Riley; I'll always come after you."

"Then so will she," Riley whispered. She turned, and her eyes fell unmistakably onto Danny's gun, holstered, as usual, at his side.

"You can't have a gun in here," Steve said, following her line of vision.

She looked back at him, a soft smile on her face. "That's okay, I don't need one," she said. Danny recognized the look in her eyes, then - it was the same one Steve got when they were in a tough spot, and he was calculating how many ways he could incapacitate people with things like paperclips or cheese slices.

"Holy shit," Rebecca whispered from behind Danny. There was a moment of dead silence in the room, and then the IV alarm sounded, shrill and demanding.

Riley blinked rapidly, and looked around. "Ow," she said, wincing, as the movement pulled against her collarbone. "Oh, hey, Sunshine," she said, smiling tiredly up at Danny. "Thanks for pulling my hair back." The smile was genuine; her eyes, though clouded with pain and fatigue, were warm.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Danny said, a bit cautiously, glancing at Steve.

"What were you thinking about just then, Riley?" Steve asked. "Before the alarm sounded."

Rebecca held up the syringes in silent question to Dr. Link, who nodded. She added them to the existing IV, while watching to see Riley's response to Steve.

"Hmm?" Riley said absently. "Oh. You said I couldn't have a gun here . . . so I was looking for other options. If, you know. If . . . she comes after me. Or you. Or anyone."

"Riley . . . it's not your responsibility to keep us safe," Steve said. "It's our responsibility to keep you safe."

Riley looked at him skeptically, and Steve smiled. Riley smiled back, cheeky and sarcastic, and Steve began to chuckle. Riley's smile turned into a laugh, and soon she was holding her bruised ribs and gasping.

"Are you saying you don't trust me to keep you safe?" Steve asked, holding his hand against his bruised back.

"Oh, but you've done such a great job so far," Riley said, "you and the CIA."

"We're the government; we're here to help," Danny said, starting to laugh along with them.

Rebecca looked at them, her hands on her hips. "You're all nuts."

"Sorry," Danny said, trying to keep a straight face, and failing. "It's . . . it's been a long couple of weeks."

"Yeah, what Sunshine said," Steve said. "Are you okay - oh," he said, looking down at Riley fondly. She was drifting off to sleep, her long lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.

"Come on, Super SEAL," Danny said, holding his hand out to help haul Steve up out of the chair. "Something tells me you're overdue for a dose of something yourself."

Steve winced on the way up, and wrapped his arm around Danny's shoulder, leaning on him.

"Need help back to your room, big guy?" Danny asked. He looked surprised when Steve nodded, but gamely started the slow walk back in that direction.

"I need to go check on Joe, and Jerry," Steve said, starting a determined limp past the door of his room.

"Stand down, Commander," Dr. Reeves said, popping out of his empty room, her arms crossed. "You are past due for fluids, and to my knowledge, you've not had anything to eat since . . . well, certainly not since you've been back here. Which is unacceptable."

Steve started to protest, but she held up a hand to silence him. "You're no good to your people if you're incapacitated, Commander," she reminded him gently. As Danny nodded in agreement, she turned on him. "And you, Detective Williams, when was the last time you had any rest, or food? Water? Anything?"

Steve looked down at Danny. "I'll rest if you do, partner," he said quietly. "Seriously, Danny, you look exhausted. I know you haven't left Riley's side. For that matter," he added, "neither has Rebecca." He looked at Dr. Reeves. "Can someone be sent to relieve her, as well?"

"On it, boss," Kono said, coming down the hall with Chin. "I'll sit with Riley, if you think that's okay."

Steve nodded in relief. "That . . . that would be great, Kono. Um, remember when she broke the doctor's nose?"

"Yeah . . ." Kono said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"So . . . just be careful," Danny said. "There's still . . . well, she apparently still has her moments."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny was sent to the small locker room on the secure wing, with a set of clean scrubs and a small shower kit.

"We keep a running supply," the orderly said, smiling at him. "Things get pretty crazy up here; when there's a security issue, sometimes we don't get to leave for days."

"Seriously?" Danny asked. "Wow, that's . . . well, that's actually a lot like Five-O."

The orderly laughed and handed Danny a towel.

When Danny emerged, damp but definitely refreshed, he almost barrelled over Rebecca, coming out of an adjacent shower stall.

"Sorry," Danny said, his strong arms wrapping around her, instinctively, to steady her.

"No problem," she replied. "I'm so tired, I can barely walk in a straight line," she admitted. Danny felt her petite frame trembling slightly beneath his hands.

"You're shaking," he said, alarmed.

"It's just . . . fatigue, and adrenaline, and very low blood sugar," she said, brushing her damp hair out of her face. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah, with rest, and some peace and quiet, and definitely some food," Danny said. "Come on, let's get you sorted."

"No, you really don't have -" Rebecca stopped, realizing that really and truly, she was so far past her limit, she was about to collapse. "Thanks," she said, instead.

Danny smiled and took her hand. "There's an empty bed in Jerry's room, and a really comfy chair. Have you met Jerry? You'll like him. Plus, he's mostly still sleeping, so it's quiet in there. Come on."

Chin was sitting next to the dozing Jerry, going over more files on a laptop.

"Danny," he said, looking up "And . . . Rebecca, is it? Man, you guys have been non-stop. You look axed. Here," he said, standing up. "Let me grab another chair . . . how about some food?"

"That would be great," Danny said, gently nudging Rebecca into the recliner, and pulling up the side chair and a small table. He grabbed a can of juice from a small supply that had been set up for Jerry, popped the tab, and handed it to Rebecca "Here, babe, drink this before you pass out."

She accepted the juice gratefully and started taking small sips. "You're good at this." She paused, sipping the juice and smiling at Danny. "Sunshine," she teased.

"I'm never gonna live that down," Danny groused, but he was smiling, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I think it's sweet," Rebecca said. "You're quite devoted to her. Your whole team is . . . intriguing."

"Yeah, it . . . takes some getting used to," Danny said. He looked up in surprise as Chin returned with trays of food. "How did you manage that so quickly?"

"Well, you know Kono has the metabolism of a humminbird," Chin joked. "Hang around her, you learn where the rations are stored. The staff here is very understanding of siege conditions, and they've been very generous. Nothing fancy, just sandwiches and fruit, but there you go. I'm going to go check in on Joe. You all get some rest."

Danny and Rebecca tucked into the food, and polished it off quickly.

"What?" Danny said, noticing that Rebecca was studying him.

"I have a lot of questions," Rebecca admitted. "And I have no idea what happens to me when I leave this hospital. I might be under arrest, or . . ."

"Hey," Danny said, reaching out and taking her hand. "No way. Are you kidding? You just helped Commander Steve McGarrett, of Five-O, rescue his baby sister from a rogue, disavowed, government program gone sideways. And you've tirelessly provided medical care under extremely difficult circumstances since. We've got your back, yeah?"

"Okay," Rebecca said, nodding. "All of that is true, I guess, except for one thing."

"Yeah? What's that?" Danny asked, still absently holding her hand in his.

"The tireless part," Rebecca said. "I'm so tired. I didn't think it was possible to be this tired." Her eyes were blinking slowly, and she rested her head against the back of the recliner, and her eyes drifted shut, and stayed closed.

"That's why," Danny said, as he stood and scooped her up out of the chair, "you get to go to sleep right here." He deposited her gently into the empty bed, chuckling as she immediately turned on her side, throwing an arm around the pillow, and snuggling her face into it with a sigh. He pulled the light blanket up over her, and smoothed it over her shoulder. Smiling to himself, he settled into the recliner, and was asleep in minutes.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe was aware of the passage of time, despite the painkillers and sedatives. He was aware of a terribly long passage of time, from Chin's initial hurried announcement that Steve had successfully brought Riley back, to now, waking up with Chin at the foot of his bed. Sitting. Watching.

"How are they?" Joe rasped. Chin, unlike Danny, didn't offer ice chips or hostile banter. Joe wasn't surprised.

"They are putting the pieces back together. Slowly," Chin said. "Steve exacerbated his injury. I'm not going to speak to you about Riley; that's up to Steve. She's alive, I'll tell you that much."

"Did Steve bring out any intel?" Joe asked. Damn it; he was going to be reduced to asking Chin for a favor. "Could I please have some ice?"

Chin nodded, and retrieved the ice from the sink counter. He brought the cup to Joe, jabbing a spoon in it as he crossed the room. "Steve retrieved some data," he said.

Joe took a spoonful of ice, let it melt in his mouth, and swallowed it gratefully. "You don't owe me anything; I understand. But please . . . Riley. Is it bad?" His voice cracked a bit, and he studied his cup intently.

Chin sighed. "It's . . . not as bad as it could have been," he said, relenting a bit. "Steve is resting now, and I'm not going to disturb him. He was on his way to check on you, and Jerry, but he needed to stand down. I'm sure he will be coming to talk to you, Joe."

"Thank you," Joe said. "Do you know if - never mind."

He looked so miserable that Chin felt himself relenting even more. "There wasn't anything in the file, Joe," he said sympathetically. "No mention of . . . parentage. Not even of Doris; not in that respect. If Steve found anything out, he's not mentioned it."

Joe nodded. "I understand," he said.

Chin started to leave the room, pausing and turning back at the door. "I'm starting to think . . . " he hesitated, looking at Joe. "Oh," he said, seeing what he was looking for, clearly, in Joe's expression. "You're not just saying that you think it's an outside chance . . . you're hoping . . . wow."

Joe shrugged, wincing. "A man my age, in my position, with my history . . . surely you can't blame me for wanting a shot at redemption," he said, quietly.


	28. Recovering 1

"Danny?" Jerry whispered. "There's a pretty lady asleep in my room."

Danny smiled. "That would be nurse Rebecca," he responded, keeping his voice very quiet. "How are you feeling, big fella?"

"I still feel like I got hit by an RPG," Jerry said. "But, you know, considering that, not bad. I mean, how many people get hit by an RPG and walk away? I mean, I didn't literally walk away, but I survived. I'll take it. Hey, when can I see Riley?"

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine watched as Steve's hands twitched, then clenched and unclenched, fisting the blanket.

"Shelburne," he muttered. She could see his eyes moving beneath closed lids, read the growing agitation in his body, and she moved closer, cautiously. "Joe, watch - Riley!" The hoarse shout was torn from his throat, and he sat up, fast, lashing out.

Catherine dodged the wild fist and grabbed his hand in hers. "McGarrett," she said, quietly, but firmly.

He blinked, reaching up to cup her face with his free hand. "Cath; did I hurt you?" he asked, checking her over. "I'm sorry; I was . . . "

"Shhh, you had a bad dream," she said, turning her face to kiss his palm. "Perfectly understandable. And I've got good reflexes, remember?"

He studied her, willing his heart rate back out of triple digits. "Yeah, I do remember. I remember that one time you didn't, too." He traced his thumb over her cheekbone, picturing the time he'd lashed out in his sleep, early, before she'd learned to pick up on the signals of an impending nightmare or flashback, and caught her with a solid left cross. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with . . . everything."

"Hey," Catherine said, easing her hip onto the bed, and taking his face in her hands. "I volunteer for this mission, sailor. Speaking of missions, though . . ."

"You need to get back to Pearl," he said.

"We're actively tracking WoFat and Doris," she replied. "If there's a lead, I want to be there. I've already debriefed Joe, and I'm as read in on the files as I can possibly be, thanks to Chin."

He noticed she was back in uniform, her backpack and briefcase by the door of his room.

"I understand," he nodded. "Give me a minute to satisfy the demands for data of Dr. Reeves, and I'll walk you as far as the elevator."

Catherine kissed him gently and nodded. "I'll just pop in to see if Riley is awake, and say goodbye to her."

"Seeing as how she has such . . . definitive and positive memories of you," Steve teased, wincing a bit as he hauled himself out of bed.

Catherine blushed. "You might have to spring for a nice hotel, then, next time I'm in port."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a nice tent," Steve said, limping toward the bathroom. "With a good air mattress. In a remote location."

"Hey," she protested, picking up her backpack and making a face at his retreating form.

Riley was awake, dozing a bit, when Catherine stopped in. Kono was gently rubbing the abrasions on her wrist.

"Hey, Kono," Catherine said, "more coconut oil?"

"Yeah, it will help it heal faster," Kono replied, "plus she seems to like the smell."

"Catherine?" Riley mumbled. She frowned a bit at the sight of Catherine in full uniform. "Is there - what -" she tried to sit up, wincing.

"No, nothing's happening," Catherine assured her. "I'm going back to work; just wanted to stop in and say goodbye. I'm stationed at Pearl for the foreseeable future; so I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon."

Riley smiled and looked at Kono. "You have a sofa I can crash on, when Catherine wants to sleep over? I'd hate to . . . put a damper on things."

Kono laughed, her eyes twinkling. She loved having something over on her boss. "Absolutely, Riley. You're welcome anytime."

Riley grinned, and then turned back to Catherine. "Thank you, really, for everything. Now that WoFat is dead, are you just going to be looking for Olivia? Or is that not something the Navy does?"

Catherine glanced at Kono, unsure of what to say. She'd forgotten that Olivia had lied to Riley, in an effort to make her feel secure within the Shelburne project, and told her that WoFat was dead. Kono was looking past her though, and Catherine turned to see Steve standing, leaning in the doorway. He came toward them, and wrapped an arm around Catherine's waist.

"Hey, Steve," Riley said, smiling up at him. "You look better."

"You do too, kid," Steve said. "Riley, there's something you need to know."

"I'll step outside," Catherine said, but Steve tightened his arm around her.

"No, there's no need," he said, gesturing for Kono to sit back down as well. "We're ohana, right? Riley and I have had enough secrets to last us a lifetime. Riley, sweetheart, WoFat isn't dead; not that we know of. Doris . . . well, she wanted you to believe that her people had rescued you from him. It was part of trying to get you to accept a different reality. I'm sorry. Catherine and her teams are doing everything they can to find him; and we'll do everything in our power to protect you until we do."

Riley was silent a moment, processing the information. "She lied. About everything," she said quietly.

Steve nodded. He wasn't surprised that Riley was far more upset about the deception than she was about WoFat being at large. WoFat was an enemy they could understand.

"I'll need a laptop," Riley said, nodding firmly. "I can help."

Steve smiled. "Okay. When Dr. Link says you can have one, we'll set you up. Think we can get a Navy issue for her, Lieutenant?" he asked, turning to Catherine.

"I think Riley could have a future in Naval Intelligence," Catherine replied, winking at Riley.

"Hey, no poaching my people," Steve groused.

Riley grinned and managed a wave as they walked out, Steve's hand still warm and steady on Catherine's waist. The security guard nodded at them and buzzed them through the locked and guarded doors of the secure wing.

"I thought you were just walking me to the elevator," Catherine observed, as he stepped through the doors with her and quickly pushed the button for the top floor. "And I definitely don't have a chopper picking me up, so why are we going to the roof?"

Steve shrugged and grinned down at Catherine, not saying a word, but his eyes flicked up to the security camera. She smiled back at him, warm, and teasing, and he felt something relax and settle in him that had been pacing in the background.

"You said, not before I went after Riley," he answered, as they stepped off the elevator onto the helipad, "and not in a hospital room. Well, I'm back from getting Riley, thanks to Jerry's transmitter and your satellite support, and we are not in a hospital room."

Catherine arched an eyebrow at their surroundings. "Way to follow the letter of the law, sailor."

"Yeah, well, the Navy taught me to follow orders and think outside the box. And I'll be damned if I let you out of my sight again without doing this," he said, cupping his hands around her face. She dropped her pack and briefcase, and her hands slid up, over his strong chest, and wound around his neck. He angled her face and kissed her, soundly and with intent, until she was breathless and he . . . wasn't, damn his lung capacity. He kissed her again, because, honestly, he couldn't imagine a time when he would ever feel like he had kissed her enough.

"I've waited for the right time, the right circumstances, and I realized, in the middle of all of this with Riley . . . our lives will probably be like this - chaos and hell breaking loose and deployments - indefinitely. Until one of us retires, and God, Cath, we're too damn good at what we do to stop. And I think, maybe, that's part of what makes me love you so much - you get it. You get me; no one else would understand, but you do. And I love you for it, because of it, in spite of it, whatever. And if you're willing, then I want there to be an us. I want us to be together, in our own crazy way of being together. Now, just like this; missions and deployments and Five-O and my crazy spy family - all of it. Would you be willing to do that, Cath? Just . . . be with me. Just like we are."

Catherine pulled herself up on tiptoe and kissed him again, and smirked when she pulled away, because he was a little breathless and a lot less smug by the time she finished. "Can you say that one part again?"

"Unh hunh," he replied, blinking those ridiculous lashes slowly, a bit dazed. "Which part?"

"The part where you said, twice, if I'm not mistaken, that you love me?" she whispered.

"Oh, yeah," he grinned. "I definitely love you, Catherine. No mistake about it. So, what do you say? Are you in?"

"I'm in, Steve; I've always been in," Catherine said, her thumb stroking across his jaw. He leaned his head into her hand. "I love you."

"Are you sure? I know it's a lot to ask. This is all I can give you for now; is it enough?"

"This is enough," Catherine said. "This is all I need, right now."

Steve bent and kissed her again, pulling her close to him. He looked in her eyes . . . "God, Catherine," he whispered. "You . . . you wouldn't have waited much longer, would you? I almost waited too long."

"It all worked out the way it was meant to," Catherine assured him.

"Right down to the perfect setting, right?" Steve grinned.

"Well, this is very 'us', you know?" Catherine said, laughing up at him. "I mean, there's a certain romance to this, really."

"Really?" Steve grinned, as the sound of a rotor approached. "Hey, how about a ride to Pearl?"

"No, I have -" Catherine started to protest. "Seriously?"

"Hey, there needed to be some sort of grand romantic gesture," Steve said. "I'm not completely clueless."

"Oh, you are, Commander; you are completely clueless and I adore you anyway," Catherine said, picking up her pack, mindful of the approaching rotor wash.

Steve grinned and shot off a jaunty salute to the pilot, and then watched as Catherine disappeared. It felt different, somehow, from all of the other times. This time, he felt like it was a given that she'd be coming back. To him.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wait; what's with the face?" Danny said, curious, as Steve poked his head into Jerry's room.

"What face?" Steve said, trying to look nonchalant.

Rebecca sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her hair was adorably mussed, and she sat up and curled her legs under her. "Oh, I see a face," she said brightly.

"You see?" Danny said, beaming at Rebecca.

"Steve looks really happy," Jerry said. "Like he does when Catherine is in port, except even more so."

"You people are impossible," Steve said, but he protest did nothing to take the goofy grin off his face. "Hey, Jerry, would you like to see Riley?"

"Oooh hooo," Danny gloated. "Diversion. Son of a bitch - sorry," he said, glancing at Rebecca, who shrugged. "Something happened. Spill."

"Danny, what are you, a sixteen year old girl?" Steve groused. But still, with the smiling.

"I have a twelve year old daughter," Danny reminded him, "so sue me."

"That explains the hair braiding," Rebecca said absently.

"But that doesn't explain why Steve is so happy," Jerry pointed out. "Stay on topic. And yes, I would love to see Riley."

"I'll see if I can arrange it," Steve said, beating a hasty retreat.

"You have a daughter?" Rebecca asked, trying to tame her unruly hair. Danny grinned and fished out an extra hair elastic and offered it to her.

"She's the reason I'm here," he said, pulling out his phone to show a picture. "My ex-wife remarried; Step Stan got a huge contract here . . . ergo, I moved from Jersey to Honolulu, to be with my baby girl what little time the Dark Lord allows."

"She's adorable," Rebecca said, gathering her hair into a somewhat manageable knot at the base of her neck.

"She is," Danny said. "Really and truly. The marriage may have ended in disaster, but Rachel - that's her mother - she is a good parent. A great mother. And Gracie is . . . she's just the best. The absolute best. She has Steve wrapped around her little finger, don't let the muscles and the tats fool you."

"I can imagine," Rebecca laughed.

"You look great," Danny blurted out. "I mean, more rested. Not that you didn't - you were exhausted. Feel better?"

"Yeah, I do, thanks," Rebecca said. "I'm going to go check on Riley though. Maybe find a laptop . . . start looking for a new job."

Danny winced. "You're, what . . . CIA? Can they, like, relocate you or something?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I was subcontracted out. Hired for a specific nursing position which is . . . over. I guess. I have no idea where to go from here."

"Look, Five-O can help you. I mean it," Danny said. "If you're not from here . . ."

Rebecca shook her head. "Northern Virginia. Near . . . you know. Langley. My dad was Baltimore PD, I went to Hopkins for my masters in nursing. I'd never even been away from the East Coast. I saw this listing . . . it paid well, and I've been paying off student loans for forever so . . ."

"Anything we can do to help," Danny said. "I mean it; sincerely. Chin and Kono, they know half the island; and Chin's significant other is a doctor at Queens - she's amazing, an ER doc, she even has privileges here; she consulted when we brought Steve and Jerry and Joe in . . . anyway. Sorry; I'm assuming you don't want to get back to Baltimore as quickly as possible." Danny smiled at her. "That's a lot to assume."

Rebecca tilted her head down, grinning. "It's . . . maybe okay to assume that I might not be in a hurry to leave Hawaii."

"Yeah?" Danny asked. "Please don't tell me it's the pineapple."

Rebecca laughed. "It's not just the pineapple," she said. "Come on, let's go check on Riley. And you can badger Steve more about the face."

"See? Right?" Danny grinned and held the door open for her.

"Don't forget, I want to see Riley," Jerry called after them. "And fill me in on the face . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Dr. Link was nodding approvingly at Riley's chart when Steve knocked quietly on the door. He looked up, smiling, and motioned him in.

"She's doing remarkably well, all things considered. I see no reason that she can't go home tomorrow, provided there are people who can help her as she continues to recover," the doctor said.

"That won't be a problem," Kono said quickly. "She has family. She has us."

"Damn straight," Danny agreed, coming in with Rebecca.

"I could stay with her," Rebecca offered. "I . . . okay, this sounds terribly self-serving, I realize, but . . . I'm sort of out of a job. And homeless. I could stay as long as needed because . . . well, I honestly don't have anywhere else to go, but even if I did - I think we do well together."

Steve looked at Riley. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That would . . . I trust Rebecca. And Jerry; isn't he going to need a lot of help?"

"He will," Dr. Link agreed, "though he won't be getting out nearly as quickly as you will. He will need to stay with us about a week. Commander White will be ready to leave in a day or so. And you, Commander McGarrett . . . from the way you're pacing around, I can see we won't keep you longer." Dr. Link sighed. "I'll go talk to Dr. Reeves."

"Are you sure it's not an imposition?" Rebecca asked quietly. "I'm sure I can arrange for my own lodgings . . . if the CIA hasn't frozen all my accounts," she added, only half kidding.

"Absolutely not," Steve said. "It's a relief . . . you have no idea how helpful it will be to have you. There's no way we'd leave Riley alone, but we need to get back on top of our case load."

"I, ah, thought we could help Rebecca get settled," Danny said. "Seeing as how Five-O kinda messed up her job with the CIA."

"Is there anything I can do?" Chin asked, nudging his way inside the door. "Or Malia? I'm sure there are openings at Queens."

"Hey, Queens has to wait its turn," Steve said. He realized that his entire team was here, together, circled around his sister. She was here, relatively in one piece, thanks to all of them. They'd run themselves into the ground, followed his every lead, put their lives and careers on the line for him and his family. The realization, on top of the lingering concussion, the fatigue, and the emotion of the day with Catherine . . . it was a lot to take in.

"Hey," Danny said, wrapping a strong hand around his bicep. "You okay there, Super SEAL? Not gonna pass out or puke, are you?"

"No, Danny," Steve said, shaking his head and laughing. "No, I'm . . . good. I mean," he waved his hands vaguely, "everything is a clusterfuck, honestly, but . . . thanks to you guys, I'm good. We're good."

"You and Catherine are really good," Riley said, blinking up at him innocently. "Like, really really good. What? I'm heavily medicated. Don't mind me."

Danny grinned and nudged Rebecca. "I knew it. That's the face."

"Okay," Steve said, pretending to retain some semblance of control and authority, "if Riley is going home tomorrow, we need to have a plan. Chin and Kono, you've gone above and beyond, as always. Go. Go home, get some decent rest. Chin, you and Jerry did amazing work with those files, and I'm sure we'll be going over those for a long time to come, but we're good for now. Kono, you have to be dead on your feet. Unless we get an active lead from Catherine, I do not need to see any of you tomorrow. That includes you, Danny."

"I know it does, and I appreciate it, Steve, but you're going home tonight - no, I can see it in your eyes, don't argue - and you're not going home alone. Besides, someone needs to help you get rooms ready for the influx of beautiful women into your house. At least, that's where I assume Riley will be doing next, along with Rebecca, until Riley's better and Rebecca is settled. And Mary will be here in a few days. You gonna tell me you're going to turn down help?" Danny paused, pointing at Steve. "I didn't think so."

"Is he always like this?" Rebecca whispered to Kono.

Kono nodded. "He's the only one of us who really understands domestic stuff," she whispered back. "Seriously, we'd be completely lost without him. Don't tell him I said that. Also. Don't miss the part where he said you were beautiful."

Danny frowned as his phone rang and the theme from X-files interrupted his rant to Steve. "Ah. Jerry wants to remind me that you are supposed to be asking when he can see Riley, and I am supposed to . . okay, never mind on that part."

#*#*#*#*#

"Dr. Reeves, I can't thank you and Dr. Link enough for what you've done for my people," Steve said, as he tried to sit patiently and allow her to finish her exam. "I know it's been a lot, having us all up here, in your way."

"This is an Army hospital, Commander," she said, pressing carefully around the bruising on his lower back. "We understand the nature of a unit. I did a tour in Afghanistan; so did Dr. Link. We get it. Breathe," she commanded, settling the earpieces of her stethoscope in her ears.

"What's the verdict? Can you spring me?" Steve asked, pulling the scrub top back down and trying to look as healthy as possible as she studied him, peering, as was her habit, over the top of her clipboard.

"I'm surprised that you're anxious to leave, while your sister is still here," she observed. "And I've noticed that you've been conspicuously absent from Commander White's room."

"Is this also my mandatory shrink visit?" Steve asked mildly. She shrugged, but didn't deny it. "Okay, I'm going a little crazy in here," Steve explained. "I've worked through much, much worse than this; Riley is the only reason I wasn't pushing to get out right away. And she's in good hands; the security in this hospital it top-notch, and this wing . . . the only place she'd be safer is at Five-O. Plus, Rebecca is willing to stay."

"They've developed a close rapport," Dr. Reeves nodded. "And Commander White? He's asked for you a few times, you know."

"I know," Steve said. "It's . . . very complicated. I haven't known what to say to him. Chin let him know that Riley was okay."

"Hmm. I think he wants to know that you're okay," Dr. Reeves said quietly. "Will avoiding him make the situation less complicated?"

"No," Steve said slowly. "No, it won't."

Dr. Reeves signed a few papers with an efficient script. "Then go see him on your way out," she said, handing most of the papers to him. "I assume Detective Williams gets your instructions and your prescriptions?"

Steve grinned. "Yeah, that's pretty much the way it works out. Thanks, doc."

#*#*#*#*#

Dr. Link had approved of the idea of Riley going to see Jerry. "She is badly bruised, but walking around, while painful, is going to help increase circulation and healing. Just don't overdo it - the short walk you take from your room to Jerry's room? That's about as much as you want to do at one time, even after you go home. We'll wrap the sprained knee. Remember, this is going to take weeks to heal, Riley. You'll need to be patient."

Riley nodded as Rebecca gently wrapped her swollen knee.

"I didn't know it could take that long," she said. "I'm sorry to be such a bother. I'm sure you'll be able to get on with your life long before that."

"Riley, no," Rebecca said, rubbing her knee gently. "You and Steve - you're giving me the opportunity to make a home here. I . . . I don't really have anyone. That's why I took the job."

"You don't have family?" Riley asked, "Parents? Brothers or sisters?"

"No, not any more," Rebecca said. "Hey," she added, as Riley's eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, Riley. I had a wonderful, wonderful family and many happy memories. But I was an only child, and there was an accident a few years ago, and I lost my parents. It was sad, but I'm okay. I just don't have a reason to go back to where I grew up."

"I grew up in Tokyo," Riley said. "I didn't know I had a brother until a couple months ago. It's a long story."

"And I will look forward to hearing it," Rebecca said. "But for now, let's go check on your friend Jerry."

They made their way slowly down the hall. "I know the whole MRI thing had to happen," Riley said, gritting her teeth, "but I kinda miss those nanobytes right about now."

They slipped quietly into Jerry's room, and his face lit up at the sight of Riley.

"Hey, Riley," he said, enthusiastic and a bit awkward at the same time. "Hey, um, pretty nurse lady."

"Rebecca," she reminded him, smiling, as she helped Riley settle into the chair next to Jerry's bed. "I'm going to go ask the official nurse if the two of you can have dinner in here; how's that sound?"

"That would be great," Jerry said. He looked at Riley. "Don't eat the green jello. Was Steve mad? He was mad, wasn't he? About the transmitter? The one we put in?"

"It worked?" Riley said. "That explains . . . he hadn't mentioned. No, he wasn't mad, Jerry. Is that how he found me?"

"Yep," Jerry said, nodding. "It worked. I'm glad he wasn't mad. And I'm really glad he found you. I'm sorry I couldn't dodge the RPG."

"Yeah, I don't think that's really a thing that can happen," Riley said. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Jerry. Trying to protect me . . . it wasn't worth it."

"It was worth it to me, Riley," Jerry said. "You're the best friend I've ever had. Hey, Chin brought my laptop in. Want to watch a movie?" Jerry looked at Riley in alarm. "Riley, why are you crying?"

"I'm not sure," Riley answered, brushing the tears away from her face. "I think it's . . . I'm just really glad you're my friend, Jerry. And I'm really glad you're okay."

Jerry patted her hand. "Me, too. Okay - Marvel or DC? Wait, Marvel, of course Marvel. Where were we in the series?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve," Joe said quietly. "I was starting to wonder if I'd been disavowed by Five-O, too."

"Sorry, Joe," Steve sighed. "It's been . . . a lot. With Riley, and . . . "

"And your very nasty bruised kidney, and the amazing send-off for Lieutenant Rollins on the helipad this morning . . ." Joe continued.

Steve looked up at him, surprised.

"Steve. I'm not just a SEAL instructor, remember? I know how to gather intel. By the way, there are security cameras on the helipad. You've just raised the bar for the boyfriends of quite a few nurses. Nicely done, son- sorry. Old habits die hard," Joe said. "How are you feeling, really? And Riley?"

"We're okay, Joe," Steve said. "Riley is . . . well, the accelerated healing and pain suppression . . . most of that was nanotechnology, as it turns out. So, she's in a lot of pain; pain that she's never experienced without the benefit of nanobytes to help her. It's going to take a while."

"And you?" Joe pressed.

"I'm going home now," Steve said.

"You're leaving Riley?" Joe asked, surprised.

"You have a specific reason to think I shouldn't?" Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Know something I don't? Because this is about as secure a situation I can provide for her on the island, Joe."

"Stand down, Steve," Joe said mildly. "I'm not questioning your judgment; just surprised that you're willing. I agree; she's safe here."

There was a look in Joe's eye that Steve recognized. "How's the shoulder, Joe?" he asked.

"It wouldn't slow me down much, if push came to shove," Joe said. "Riley is currently in Jerry's room; they're watching a movie on his laptop. The nurse that's bringing them dinner has been vetted by the hospital, of course, but also by Catherine's team. Riley's doctor served in Afghanistan; I spoke with his former CO this morning."

Steve nodded, impressed. He could read between the lines: Joe was ready to take on any threat that came down the hospital hall toward Riley.

"The only wild card, really, is this nurse that you brought with you. Rebecca," Joe said.

"She risked her life to help us," Steve said. "Going with my instincts on this one."

Joe nodded. "Fair enough. Riley trusts her."

"There's that, too," Steve said. He paused for a moment, then smiled.

"And Detective Williams, who you have determined is an exceptionally intuitive judge of character, trusts her," Joe added. "Much as he instinctively mistrusted me."

Steve didn't disagree. He studied Joe for several long minutes. "So," he said, finally, "the DNA test. Riley is still putting pieces of missing memory back together. I'm going to give her time to come to terms with Doris's role in all of this before I bring up checking our DNA against yours."

"That seems reasonable," Joe said. "But lies of omission, as you know, hurt even worse when they're revealed by the wrong person at the wrong time. I wouldn't wait too long."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "We'll talk about it when you get out of here, okay? We'll talk about a lot of things."

#*#*#*#*#

"You ready for this, partner?" Danny asked, as he helped Steve lower his still aching back into the Camaro.

"Sure, Danny," Steve said. "Tomorrow, I'll check in with the governor, we'll check in with Catherine, and we'll set up a running command center for tracking WoFat and Doris. And then we'll evaluate where we stand with other cases. This is what I do, Danny. Piece of cake. I mean, I might need to toss back a few Motrin, but I've got this."

Danny laughed and shook his head. "Okay; but I meant the part where, within the next few days, you're going to have both of your sisters living in your house, one of them injured and potentially doing that crazy scary thing, and one of them . . . well, one of them Mary. Who _is_ a crazy, scary thing. And a nurse that you pulled out of a now disavowed, super secret, science fiction CIA operation. Whose last name, by the way, we do not know. That was what I meant when I asked if you were ready."

"Oh," Steve said, his hand wrapping tight around the oh-shit handle of the car. "Oh. Yeah, that part scares me shitless, Danny. I . . . I got nothin'."

Danny chuckled. "Nah, you got me, Steve."

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said, and he'd never meant it more.


	29. Sisters 1

Danny bustled around the McGarrett home with an energy and competency that amused Steve.

"I had no idea, Danny, that you were a man of such talents," he said, as Danny wielded a duster. He was wearing an apron, of all things, pulled out of the back of one of Steve's kitchen drawers, and Steve was seriously contemplating sending a picture to Chin and Kono.

"Steve, you can eat off the floor of most of the rooms of your house, but these rooms . . . babe, they're a little bit depressing," Danny said, flinging open the windows. He'd already expertly stripped the beds and the washer and dryer were humming, two more loads waiting their turn.

"They were our rooms as kids, Danny," Steve said, frowning. "We left kind of abruptly, remember?"

"I do remember, and your dad didn't really touch these rooms after, which is fine, it's just . . . I think you and your sisters deserve some space to create new memories," Danny explained.

"Maybe Riley would be more comfortable in my room, until she recovers," Steve suggested.

"I'll tell you three things wrong with that idea," Danny said. "First, stairs. Second, Mary - you can hope for the best but sisters have issues, trust me on this, Steve. Third, Catherine."

"Catherine?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"Yes, the fair Catherine," Danny said, exasperated. "What, when she comes over, you're going to welcome her to your childhood bedroom, complete with the bunk beds?"

Steve grinned. "We've made bunk beds work just fine, Danny. There was this one deployment -"

"Focus, Steve," Danny said, holding up his hand. "Look at these rooms. A little sad."

Steve nodded slowly. Their childhood bedrooms, he'd noted on his visits home, didn't look so much like carefully preserved rooms awaiting their owners . . . more like carelessly abandoned spaces. It hadn't mattered, the few times he'd crashed at his father's house; he was usually between deployments and his old bunkbed was arguably more comfortable than anything he'd been sleeping on anyway.

"So, I see most of the odds and ends have been packed away and put in the closets," Danny said, "that's fine for Mary, she can decide what to do with her stuff, but we should take your boxes up to the attic or something, make more room for Riley."

"I'm thinking . . . eventually, I think Riley is going to want to live in the house Mikoto left her," Steve said.

"Yeah?" Danny asked, curious.

"It's Asian in architecture, quiet, remote . . . she seemed really happy there," Steve said.

Danny looked at him dubiously. "Well, with you, and Jerry, and Joe there," he pointed out. "Steve, it's an amazing property, but with what she's been through . . . it's going to be a while before it's good for her to be that far away from family. Now," he added, rubbing his hands together, "in the meantime, show me the way to the attic, or do you want these boxes in the garage?"

"Attic is fine," Steve said, reaching for a box.

"Are you insane?" Danny yelled. "You'll be back to pissing in a measuring cup if you don't take it easy. You're here to direct and oversee."

Steve grinned as Danny hauled several boxes up to the attic, his apron fluttering merrily as he went up and down the narrow pull-down stairs. Satisfied that he had cleared the room enough, he stood, looking at the bunk beds, hands on his hips. "I'm gonna have to call Chin," he said, " to stop by and help me separate these bunks."

"What's wrong with the bunk beds?" Steve asked, indignant. "They're very efficient. Rebecca can take the top bunk."

"Efficient - Rebecca - okay, do you not remember, when Riley had nightmares, and we had to come in here, how awkward it was not to bean your head on that top bunk?" Danny demanded, waving his hands.

"Well, for me, a bit, yes," Steve admitted, "for you . . ."

Danny flipped him off. "Rebecca is a grown up. Grownups, especially grown up women, do not climb ladders and sleep in the top bunk. There's plenty of floor space in here. I'm calling Chin." Danny walked off to check the laundry, grabbing his phone as he went. "Chin . . . I have a favor to ask of you . . ."

Steve stood in the hallway, looking at the two rooms which would soon be reclaimed by his two sisters, and a nurse he barely knew, and realized that nothing in his years at Annapolis, his BUDs training, or his years of service as a SEAL and a Naval Intelligence officer had given him an ounce of useful training for this particular situation.

"Danny?" he called anxiously, and headed off in search of his best friend.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was waiting at Hickam Air Force Base when the plane from Barstow landed. Mary looked impossibly tiny coming off the plane, surrounded by military personnel, but predictably, she was at ease, chatting and laughing. She spotted Steve and waved, bouncing on the balls of her feet and heading in his direction.

"Mare," he said, suddenly overcome with emotion as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, her feet dangling inches off the ground. He cradled her head easily in the palm of his hand for a moment before he placed her carefully back on the ground.

"Commander, I have a bag for your sister if you'll give us just a moment to get it sorted," a young soldier said.

"No problem," Steve said, shaking his hand. "Thank you for seeing to it that she arrived here safely."

Steve held Mary by the shoulders and looked her over. She grinned and stood at mock attention.

"You look great, Mary," he said, smiling down at her. And she did - healthy, fit, and dressed much more conservatively than he was used to. "This a new look?" he teased, gesturing at the fashionably comfortable jeans, t-shirt, and converse sneakers she was sporting.

"Danny and Catherine said that you'd been injured, and that there were several other team members injured, and that I should be prepared to help out," Mary explained. "So, I brought stuff, look -" she gestured to a large tote bag that she had carried off the plane. "I have magazines, and chapstick, and fuzzy socks, and hard candy. All of the things Aunt Deb says are important for people who are in the hospital or recovering."

Steve was handed another bag, which he presumed contained Mary's clothes, and they started walking toward his truck.

"I'm impressed, Mary," he said. "That was thoughtful."

She ducked her head self-consciously. "Yeah, well, I know I'm usually a bit of a spazz and you're always having to bail me out of trouble. Danny's never called me when you've been hurt and . . . well, I wanted you to be able to depend on me for a change."

He hugged her to himself and kissed the top of her head before opening the door to his truck and helping her into the passenger seat. "That's good, Mare." He slipped into the driver's seat and steered the truck toward home.

"What?" Mary said, looking at him suspiciously. "Oh my gosh, Steve, did you lose someone? What's wrong? Is Chin okay?" she demanded.

"Chin is fine," Steve assured her. "There's . . . Mary, there's a lot I need to tell you. Let's grab sandwiches and head home, and then I'll explain, okay?"

#*#*#*#*#*#

They were sitting in the chairs by the beach.

"Steve, I'm really freaked out," Mary said quietly. "I haven't seen this look on your face since the day mom died. I still think it was pretty awful of dad to make you be the one to tell me. You shouldn't have had to do that. And now you have the same look on your face, like you're about to say something that's going to change everything about life as I know it, and it's freaking me out."

"I don't know where to start," Steve admitted. "None of what I have to say is easy to tell you. I just want you to know that I'm here for you; the whole team is here to support us through this."

Mary squared her shoulders. "Just tell me. Quick, like ripping off a bandaid."

"We have a sister," Steve said.

Mary gaped at him, speechless

"And our mom is still alive; or, well, she was, and . . . well, I'm not exactly sure at the moment. But as of a couple days ago, she was still alive," Steve said.

"Is there anything else?" Mary asked faintly.

"No, that's it," Steve said, grabbing her hands. "You okay?"

"Am I - no, no I am not okay, Steve, this is insane," Mary said, sounding a bit hysterical. "Mom is alive?"

"I don't know, Mary," Steve said, shaking his head. "There was an accident, an explosion, and she may have been caught in it, or she may have managed to get clear. We don't know yet. But she may be alive."

"And we have a sister?" Mary asked, incredulous. "Older or younger?"

"Younger," Steve said. "Her name is Riley. Mom raised her in Tokyo until she was about sixteen. She's about twenty now."

"She's younger than me," Mary repeated. "I have a younger sister. Named Riley."

Steve nodded, giving Mary time to absorb the shocking news.

"Is she the one that's hurt?" Mary asked.

Steve nodded again. "Yes, Riley is injured; and another friend of the team's, named Jerry. And Joe White."

"Uncle Joe?" Mary questioned. "Dad's friend?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Turns out it's a little more complicated than that, but yeah."

Mary was silent for a time, looking out at the water and running her fingers through the sand. She finally looked back up at Steve. "Our parents lied to us about a lot of stuff, then."

"They did," Steve confirmed. No sense denying it.

"Does Riley know about me?" Mary asked next.

"She does. She's looking forward to meeting you."

Mary took a deep breath. "Okay. I think you better tell me the whole story from the beginning."

"Alright, Mary," Steve said, smiling fondly at her and squeezing her hand. He was so proud of her.

"Just one thing, though," she added.

"What's that, sis?"

"I know it's still morning, but I need a drink."

#*#*#*#*#

It was almost an hour later when Mary contemplated Steve solemnly, trying to process everything he'd told her.

"It sounds like a science fiction movie. A bad one," she said. "And I feel like there are still things you're not telling me."

"Mary, I don't . . . I'm trying to leave you room to give our parents the benefit of the doubt, here. And also, some of the details are going to be deemed classified. Can you just trust me, that I told you what I could, and that what I couldn't was for your own protection?

She looked at him dubiously. "Because that's worked out so well for our family so far."

He grinned. "Touche."

They heard the gentle purr of Danny's Camaro pull into the driveway, and headed to the front door.

"Danny!" Mary exclaimed, padding out onto the front porch to greet him.

"Hey, Squirt!" Danny said, coming up the steps and wrapping her in a big hug. He tousled her hair gently. "You okay? With all of this?"

She shrugged. "I mean, it's crazy, but . . . I guess I'd rather have more family than less, so . . ."

"I'm glad to see you, Danny, but . . . what are you doing here? You should have just taken the day, partner," Steve said.

"Well, if it's not an intrusion, I thought that I would wait here with Mary while you go pick up Riley and Rebecca. Rebecca is probably arriving here with just the scrubs from Tripler, since her previous accommodations went boom; figured you'd have your hands full with Riley and Mary, so I thought I would offer to take Rebecca out to pick up some essentials to tide her over until she gets settled."

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. "I hadn't even thought of that, Danny . . . thank you."

"Don't thank me too fast, I'm counting on Five-O expensing some clothing and personal items for her," Danny warned.

Mary narrowed her eyes at Danny. "I would have been happy to take her," she said, "or Kono. I'm sure Kono would have been happy to help." She smacked Steve in the chest.

"Ow, what the hell, Mare?"

"You didn't tell me Danny was hot for the nurse," she said, winking at Danny.

"I'm not - Mary McGarrett, that is just - Steve would you explain?" Danny protested.

"Gee, Danny, I'd love to but I have to go pick up Riley, bye," Steve said. He grabbed his keys and abandoned Danny to a smirking Mary.

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm sorry you can't leave yet," Riley said, handing Jerry a cup of water.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "We can Skype, if Steve says it's okay. And I'll be out in about a week, they said." He glanced around the room. "I'll be glad. Not that I'm not grateful, but it's a little boring in here."

Riley glanced around the room, too.

"Sorry. I bet it's way better than where . . . well, than where you were right before here," Jerry said apologetically.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it feels like home for you, Jerry," she said. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Just think, though, if I had broken my hands," Jerry said earnestly. "It could have been so much worse. Imagine. Not being able to type for . . . weeks."

They both shuddered.

"There you are," Rebecca said, poking her head in the door, Steve on her heels. They both looked mildly worried. "You said you'd be right back."

"Sorry," Riley said. "I wanted to say goodbye to Jerry."

"It's okay, Riley," Steve said. "Hey, Jerry - how are you feeling?"

"Better today," Jerry said.

Riley patted his hand awkwardly and then turned to Steve and Rebecca. "Could I see Joe before I leave?" she asked Steve.

He hesitated, and then nodded. "Just a short visit, though. Give me a minute; let me talk to him first."

Steve disappeared and Rebecca and Riley started walking, slowly, toward Joe's room.

"He's going to tell Joe what he can and can't say to me," Riley said. She grinned at Rebecca. "And then he'll probably come out here and tell me what I can and can't say to Joe."

"Sounds complicated," Rebecca commented. She studied the way Riley was limping. "I think we need to discuss crutches for you, Riley. Or a stronger brace for that knee."

Riley wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I miss whatever it was that made this stuff -" she broke off with a frustrated gesture.

The door to Joe's room opened, and Steve gestured Riley in.

"I'll go get Riley's pharmacy order and wait for you at the security desk," Rebecca offered, and Steve nodded gratefully.

"Riley," Joe said, swallowing hard. "I'm so sorry . . . for everything. We did - I did what I thought was right, at the time, but I didn't realize . . . I'm sorry."

"I have a lot of questions, Joe," Riley said softly. "When you're feeling better."

Joe nodded. "I'll do my best to answer, Riley."

"We need to go," Steve said, his hand brushing protectively over Riley's shoulder. He didn't miss the expression of sadness in Joe's face, at the reminder that Steve still felt the need to protect Riley from him. "You rest up, Joe, and they'll be kicking you out of here in no time."

"Goodbye, kiddos," Joe said. "See you soon."

Tripler didn't have that silly rule about riding to the door in a wheelchair, so Dr. Link simply walked them to the security at the double doors, where Rebecca was waiting patiently.

Riley paused before they went through. "Really, really sorry about the broken nose, Dr. Link."

"You're forgiven," he laughed. "You take care, Riley. Anything goes weird, you get your brother to bring you back and we'll zap you again, okay?"

"Okay," she said agreeably. Steve and Rebecca glanced at each other, not sure whether to be amused or alarmed at how easily Riley accepted that as an option.

They took the elevator to a gated, security monitored parking area. Rebecca was impressed with how many times Steve had to show his credentials and then wait patiently while everything was verified.

"Commander," the security guard nodded, and yet another buzzing sound and then they were in the sunlight.

Riley and Rebecca squinted and covered their eyes. It had been days - too many days - since either of them had been outside. By the time they reached the HPD issue SUV, both of them were a bit dazed.

"Where's your truck?" Riley asked, absently. Then her eyes widened and she gasped, as she remembered, in vivid detail, her front row view of the explosion that rocked the truck onto its side.

"Riley, you're okay," Steve assured her.

"I saw it happen," she said. "I saw your truck flip over, and Jerry wouldn't stop, he . . . "

"I know, and I am so proud of him," Steve said. "He did everything he could to keep you safe. He did exactly what Joe and I would have told him to do. And we're fine."

Riley raised an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"We'll be fine," Steve amended, helping Riley into the front seat. She winced as the movement aggravated her bruised hip and ribs. "And you, young lady, are going to rest up. Mary has come prepared with magazines and fuzzy socks and everything." He closed her door carefully and went around to slide into the driver's seat.

"So she's here?" Riley asked. "And she knows?"

"Yes, and yes," Steve said.

"Was she angry?" Riley whispered, while Rebecca observed the exchange with interest. She'd met Catherine, so Mary couldn't be a girlfriend . . .

"She was angry with our parents, just like I said she would be," Steve said, wrapping a comforting hand around Riley's knee. "Not with you. Sorry," he added, catching Rebecca's curious gaze in the rear view mirror, "Mary is my - our sister."

"Ah," Rebecca said. "No worries, Commander McGarrett, just carry on . . . I'll piece things together. And please, don't let me invade your privacy. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you and your team giving me the opportunity to gather my thoughts and decide what to do, and I meant it when I said that I was interested in helping with Riley and Jerry's recovery at home. You've been abundantly kind to me; you don't owe me explanations."

"So what you're saying is that you're not entirely sure you want to sign on for the full crazy?" Steve asked, amused.

Rebecca waved her hand dismissively. "I think it's too late to protect me from the crazy," she laughed, then glanced at Steve apologetically. "Sorry. Too soon?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Nope," Steve said, smiling back at her. "If we can't find some humor in this, we're going to be pretty miserable."

It was a pleasant drive, and while Steve kept his eyes constantly scanning for potential trouble, an uneventful one. They were soon pulling into Steve's driveway. Steve and Rebecca slid easily from the vehicle, but Riley hesitated.

"Here, honey, I'll help you out," Steve said. "Watch that knee."

Riley looked at him, her face full of uncertainty. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

"Riley, I know this is overwhelming, but of course it's a good idea," Steve said patiently. "Mary is your sister, just like I'm your brother."

"Yeah, but she's been your sister - your baby sister - her whole life," Riley said. "I don't want to mess that up. You can send me somewhere else, and you and Mary can go back to your lives."

Steve had to carefully control the anger that washed over him, lest Riley think it was directed toward her. "Riley McGarrett," he said firmly, "there were, unfortunately, people in your life who thought that was a good answer. I am not one of those people. You are not going to be hidden away like a skeleton in the closet. Got it?"

Riley nodded and climbed reluctantly out of the passenger seat, and limped up the sidewalk. The front door opened, and Mary bounded out, followed closely by Danny. Riley stopped, hesitating, as Mary's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

"Steve, you numbskull," Mary blurted. "How did you not know the minute you saw her? Oh my God, the two of you . . . "

Steve put a gentle hand on Riley's back and nudged her forward, closing the distance between her and Mary.

"Riley," Steve said softly, "this is our sister Mary."

"Wow," Riley whispered.

"Yeah," Mary whispered back. "Holy shit."

Steve threw back his head and laughed heartily, wrapping an arm around each of them as they continued up the sidewalk.

"I, ah, thought we might slip out for a while," Danny said, stepping off the porch and approaching Rebecca. "They could probably use some space, and I suspect you could use a break. And perhaps a trip to a department store?"

Rebecca glanced down at her scrubs, and then back at Danny in relief. "Oh my, that would be . . . wow. Yeah, I had the scrubs I wore out of the compound, and these from Tripler. I'm pretty sure everything went up in flames . . . driver's license, credit cards, bank cards . . ."

Danny smiled at her. "Good thing the head of Five-O owes you a favor, then. Whatever you need to get situated until we work things out with your id and accounts, compliments of the governor of Hawaii." He flashed a government issue credit card at her.

"Wow," Rebecca said. "Looks like I chose wisely, then, getting out of the matrix."

"That you did," Danny agreed, gesturing toward the Camaro.

"This is your car?" Rebecca asked. "Well, my day is just improving by leaps and bounds."

#*#*#*#*#

"I hope you don't mind, Steve, but Danny helped me go in the attic and bring a few things down for Riley's room," Mary said, gesturing into the room set up for Riley and Rebecca. Two soft, faded quilts had replaced the utilitarian blue covers on the beds, and the dark curtains had been replaced with a pair of sheers that moved softly in the breeze from the still-open window.

"Wow," Steve said, impressed. Danny was right; it was high time for some changes, and this was a good start.

"It looks very cozy, thank you Mary," Riley said, her hand tracing over the soft quilt.

"The quilts were our grandmothers," Mary said. "I thought they were prettier than Steve's boring things. And I brought down a box of books . . . I didn't know what you liked to read, but our mom was a teacher. I thought. Anyway, Steve said you'd been hurt, and I thought maybe books . . . " she trailed off uncertainly.

Riley opened the lid to the box, which had been placed neatly on the dresser. Inside were an assortment of novels, some from Doris's cover as a teacher, some from Steve's early years of high school. "I love to read," Riley said, looking at Mary, her eyes shining. "Thank you."

Mary beamed as Steve squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "You did good, Mare," he whispered, and Mary realized, in that moment, that while she'd never doubted her brother's affection for her, she'd been waiting her whole life to make him proud.

Mary brushed a hand across her eyes. "Okay, I don't know about you two, but between the jet lag and this very Lifetime movie scenario we've had going on here, I feel pretty wrung out. How about we collapse on the beach?"

"You two go ahead," Steve said, "I'll be out in a bit. I need to check in with the office." He made a hasty retreat to his dad's desk, where he sat down in the familiar chair and picked up a framed picture of his dad and Mary. "You'd be so proud of Mary, dad," he whispered. His eyes fell on another picture, and he reached for his phone.

"Aunt Deb? It's Stevie . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Danny reminded Rebecca that Steve's house was, in fact, ocean front, and the headed for a small, modest department store that Malia had recommended when Gracie needed clothes for camp. He was hazarding a guess, based on his limited time with Rebecca, but she didn't seem to be the type who would want or need expensive clothing. Also, the store had only one primary entrance, with just a fire exit at the back.

These were things Danny noticed, just as he noticed which bench outside would allow him to keep an eye on both the entrance to the store and the street that lead to the back alley for the block.

One additional stop at a drug store, and they were headed back to Steve's.

"Thank you, Danny," Rebecca said, returning the credit card to him. "That was incredibly thoughtful."

"Are you sure you have everything you need?" Danny asked, glancing skeptically at the few bags in the back seat.

"Well, my current job doesn't seem to require anything special, and I don't mind doing laundry," she said, smiling. "There is just one other thing," she added, hesitantly.

"What's that?" Danny asked, smiling at her.

"I need coffee," she said, a hint of desperation in her voice "Real coffee. Strong coffee."

Danny laughed. "I know just the place. One of the few redeeming qualities that I could find about this place in the first few months I lived here was the coffee. It is amazing."

"Was it difficult? Adjusting to Hawaii?" Rebecca asked.

"It was," Danny acknowledged. "It was, because I was so angry. My ex-wife had packed my baby girl across the world without consulting me and I was furious. So I resisted everything about coming here, and then when I got here - whooo boy. I was a haole."

"A howlie?" Rebecca asked, scrunching up her nose.

Danny noticed that it was quite cute when she did that. Adorable, was the word that came to mind. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Yeah, sorta - spelled h-a-o-l-e. Non-native. Outsider. I finally settled in with a great partner, Meka, and things got better. Then there was a case that changed everything. Steve's dad was murdered, and I was assigned the case," Danny explained.

"Wow," Rebecca said.

"Yeah. We, ah, met in his garage. With our guns pulled on each other," Danny laughed. "Here we are, coffee."

They pulled up in front of a small walk-up and Danny ordered two large coffees. Rebecca smiled as they fixed their coffees - two sugars, generous cream - exactly the same.

"So, pretty much everything around here comes with this view?" she asked, admiring the beach view from where they stood, sipping their coffees. "Oh, yes, you weren't kidding. This is really good coffee."

"Right? Yeah, there's sand and saltwater everywhere you turn. Or, you know, flesh eating jungle or god-forsaken pineapple fields. Steve can show you some amazing places if you're up for a twenty mile hike straight up the side of a mountain," Danny groused.

Rebecca studied him for a moment, taking another sip of coffee. "It's home now, isn't it?"

"Heaven help me, but yeah, it is," Danny admitted, grinning. "Five-O just sort of has that effect on people. Pulls you in and next thing you know, roots."

"So if I don't want to get attached?" Rebecca asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Then you probably shouldn't have followed Steve out of that compound," Danny said.

"Ah, well," Rebecca shrugged, "what's done is done. Let's go check on my patient."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve met them at the front door, smiling.

"They're both asleep," he said, taking one of Rebecca's bags from Danny. He glanced back at the Camaro. "Are there more bags in the trunk?" he asked.

"Rebecca is apparently low maintenance," Danny said approvingly.

"Well, not to mess up your design plan, Danny," Steve teased, "but Mary has decided that she wants to bunk with Riley, so that means Rebecca has this room." Steve led the way to Mary's old room and deposited her bags on the bed. "It's not the Hilton, but thanks to Danny, it's clean and comfortable. Please make yourself at home."

"It's perfect," Rebecca said. "Do you think it would be okay if I slipped in and checked on Riley? And then, I have to admit, I could do with a nap myself."

"Absolutely," Steve said. "Danny and I will be around if you need anything. Thanks, Rebecca. I know this is crazy, giving up your time to come help us, but by tomorrow I absolutely have to be back in the office, and there's no way I'd be willing to leave Riley without a medical professional."

"Well, trust me when I say that there's literally no other place I'd rather be right now; and I don't just mean because I'm currently homeless and without a passport or driver's license," Rebecca replied dryly.

Danny followed Steve out to the chairs by the beach, and watched as Steve gingerly lowered himself, wincing, into the seat.

"You need a cushion or something, there, partner?" Danny asked.

Steve sighed. "I will be so glad when this heals up. It's so damn aggravating."

"Aside from that, how is everything? I mean, really; with Mary, and getting Riley back? And don't just give me 'fine'; I want to know," Danny insisted.

"Mary handled the news remarkably well, all things considered," Steve said. "I think some of that had to do with how you and Catherine approached the situation, so thanks. Apparently she got the idea that she was being called because she was needed, and I think that really made a difference to her. I think she made up her mind that she was going to rise to the challenge. She'd even called Aunt Deb and asked for advice on what to bring with her."

"Really? Man, that's great, Steve," Danny said. "I'll be honest, Catherine and I were worried that she'd be yet one more person for you to have to look after. We had a contingency plan for getting her shipped back out in a hurry if that because the case. But I'm glad to know that she's handling it well."

"And Rebecca? How's she holding up? This can't be easy for her; she came here as part of what she thought was a legitimate medical study and suddenly finds herself in the middle of a disavowed CIA operation; the whole thing literally going up in flames behind her," Steve said, shaking his head. "To think, what could have happened to her, had she not . . . shit, Danny."

"What, babe?" Danny asked, alarmed, as Steve paled.

"My mother . . . if she blew up that bunker in an effort to buy me time to get Riley away safely . . . then she likely killed innocent people in the process," Steve said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Steven, that is not on you," Danny said earnestly. "First of all, we haven't seen any reports. We don't know that your mother caused that explosion. Secondly, even if she did - you didn't ask her to. You had no idea she was going to do that. It's not on you."

Steve nodded miserably. "I guess you're right, Danny."

"Of course I'm right," Danny said confidently, smiling at Steve. "Now, come on. Let's go figure out the new normal - if there is such a thing around here - for the guy with two sisters. Two beautiful sisters. Two beautiful _single_ sisters. It is a difficult life, my friend, especially with both of them under your roof. Speaking of which, Mary didn't indicate how long she was staying . . . Catherine and I shoulda maybe discussed that with her . . . Steve, what's wrong? Why do you look like you're trapped behind enemy lines? Talk to me, babe . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

There will be more adventures with the newly-non-nanobyted Riley, I promise! This story is going to pause just for a few weeks in November but will return with everyone back in action and moving forward with Riley as part of Five-O, working alongside Charlie; and Rebecca deciding whether to stay in Honolulu or return to Baltimore; and Steve and Catherine . . . and of course, Joe White and the ghosts of Doris/Oliva past!


	30. Just a Bit

A/N: A tiny, tiny little chapter - no real plot, just a moment captured - just to say hello, and thank you for waiting . . . I took a few weeks to concentrate on the Jersey universe for NaNoWriMo, but I'm definitely coming back to this story (if there's still anyone interested!). I also want to say thank you, again, to everyone who takes the time to review and drop notes of encouragement. On bad days, your kind words make a huge difference in my life. Thank you. (That said, I welcome feedback and suggestions - keep me on course, and please, those of you who have mentioned that you read and re-read the story - drop me a note if I create a plot hole! I try to go back and reread from time to time, for the sake of consistency and continuity, but if I miss something I'd love to know so that I can fix it! Everything I write is unbeta'd and the product of very little sleep and a great deal of caffeine.)

#*#*#*#*#

Mary was waiting for Steve when he came out of the water.

He eased himself gingerly into the chair next to hers.

"Holy shit, Steve," she gasped. "Your back . . . you shouldn't be swimming, you idiot."

He gratefully accepted the cup of coffee she handed him. He wrinkled his nose a bit at the taste; it was her coffee, sweet, like Danny liked his. Still, it was hot.

"I couldn't, really," he admitted. "More like a very pathetic doggy paddle. But I needed to move, I was hobbling around like an eighty year old man." He was silent for a moment, taking another sip of coffee, and then handing the cup back to Mary.

"Because your truck got blown up," Mary said quietly.

Steve glanced at her. He'd deliberately spared her that detail.

"Riley saw it happen," Mary continued. "She had a lot of nightmares last night."

"Mare, shit, I'm sorry," Steve said, "I should have been downstairs, I should -"

Mary interrupted him. "No, Steve, this is why I came, remember? To help. Rebecca offered to switch with me, let me stay in her room, but . . . I dunno, it feels right, being the one to help." She paused, staring out over the water. "Steve, is this . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"What, Mare?" he prompted gently.

"Is this why you've pushed me away, all these years? You didn't want me to know . . . all these years, Steve, as a SEAL, the things you've seen . . . you kept me at arm's length, to, what - protect me?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "What do you mean, pushed you away? Mare, you didn't - there hasn't been - you thought I was pushing you away? God, Mary, I'm so sorry, I never . . . if I was, it wasn't on purpose. But yeah, I think . . . from the minute Dad sent us away, my life belonged to the Navy. Even before I got to Annapolis, it was all about preparing . . . and yeah, I've seem some really bad -" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I guess part of me never wanted to expose you to any of that. I'm sorry, if it made you feel like I was pushing you away."

"I've missed you," Mary said simply, biting her lip as she tried to hold back tears. "I've missed you the whole time."

Steve pushed himself stiffly out of the chair and knelt in front of Mary, stroking a hand through her hair and then cupping her face gently. She seemed so impossibly young, and tiny, and his heart clenched painfully at the thought of her, all these years, feeling alone. Missing him.

"Mare," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears to match hers. "I am so, so sorry."

She shook her head, smiling even as the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "You were just a kid, Steve. It wasn't . . . it wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Not to you, not to me . . . not to Riley." She sniffed. "And if you tell me that life isn't supposed to be fair I'm gonna kick you in the nuts."

He laughed, then, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "It's not fair," he murmured in agreement. "It was horrible, and I don't understand. I don't understand why our parents made the decisions they made, and I'm so sorry that you and Riley have been hurt."

"And you, too," Mary said. "You've been hurt, too, Steve."

"I'm okay, Mary," he said immediately, assuring her.

She pulled back and looked at him fondly. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?"

"Name it, Mare," he said emphatically.

"Let me grow up," she said softly. "Let me be an adult, and stop trying to protect me from everything."

"I will never stop trying to protect you, Mary, not as long as my heart is beating," he said. "But I will try . . . I will try to stop thinking of you as the little girl that I put on the plane to go to Aunt Deb's."

She pondered that for a moment. "Okay," she decided. "That seems reasonable."

"I try," he said, smiling at her. "I have to go to work," he said reluctantly.

"I know," she said, beaming at him. "That's one of the reasons I came, remember? I'll take care of things here, while you're at work. Now, come on, let's get you back to the house, and you should take a nice warm shower while your back is still stretched out from swimming. I'll make you some coffee and toast . . . "

She wrapped her arm carefully around his waist, and he looped his arm over her shoulder . . . and he let himself lean on her, just a bit, as they walked back toward their home.


	31. Coming Up for Air

_A/N: There was NaNoWriMo and then there was . . . life. I apologize for the delay. Another relatively fluffy, team- and family- life chapter, but I think our beleaguered team has earned it. Small correction in this chapter: I realized that the doctors at Tripler would generally be military officers, so "Dr." Link became "Major" Link. At some point I'll go back and correct the earlier chapters. I decided I would rather apologize for an improvement in accuracy than leave an error. There will definitely be more case fiction and action in the future, but I felt like some other issues needed to have the spotlight for at least another chapter or so._

 _#*#*#*#*#_

"The house is going to feel empty," Steve said, taking a sip of his beer. "Rebecca moved out last week, Mary leaves tomorrow. It'll feel weird."

"It probably will," Danny agreed. They looked over the water in companionable silence. "But it's good, right? I mean, Mary was a huge help, and she and Riley had some time together, to get to know each other. Hearing Riley laugh tonight . . ."

"Yeah, it's good," Steve said. "Mary . . . she's not the little girl I remember, not the troubled young woman I bailed out from a distance . . . I've always loved her, you know that. But now, it's - I can count on her, you know?"

"She's proven that," Danny said. "To herself, which was the most important thing, I think."

Steve nodded in agreement. "She was talking to Rebecca about taking a course . . . maybe medical transcription, or phlebotomy. Can you believe that? Mary, with a needle and a syringe."

"Lord help us," Danny chuckled. "Rebecca wouldn't have encouraged her if she didn't honestly think she had potential."

"Speaking of potential . . . and Rebecca . . ." Steve nudged Danny.

"Starts at Queens day after tomorrow," Danny said, refusing to take the bait immediately. "Malia put in a good word for her, of course, but her resume is impressive. She got a position in ICU. Long hours, demanding, but she's excited."

"Her long hours going to allow her to spend any time with you?" Steve probed, grinning sideways at his friend and partner.

"If my crazy-ass boss doesn't monopolize my time filling out paperwork explaining perps dangling off roof-tops and being thrown in shark tanks, yeah," Danny retorted.

"Just don't go and get shot to spend time with the pretty nurse," Steve teased. "Put in a request for a vacation day."

"Funny, Steven, very funny," Danny said. "I won't have to get shot on purpose, it just seems to happen naturally when you're around."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley paced nervously in the living room, waiting for Steve to come downstairs. He was still fastening his watch as he hit the bottom stair, and looked at her in surprise.

"You've been up a while," he observed. "Excited about your first day back?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, putting her hands on her hips in a way that reminded him so much of Mary. "Just trying to decide if I'll lead with 'hey, there, Dr. Fong, how's the gunshot wound healing up? Sorry about that' or 'well, look at that, I see they had to replace the carpet, you know, because of all the blood'." She groaned and put her hand over her face.

"Riley, honey," Steve said, smiling. "Charlie is glad you're coming back. He told me yesterday that he needs you to create a searchable database of evidence from cold cases."

"If . . . with the right algorithm, you could search for seemingly random connections," she said. "Because they might not be random. Evidence is more objective . . ."

"See? There you go," Steve said. "You'll be back in front of a computer, back to being your brilliant self."

"Right," she said dubiously. "Brilliant. Maybe I'll have to settle for 'bright' now. You know. Now that I'm all un-enhanced."

"Riley. They ran a battery of tests on you. Even post-nanobyte, you are a near-genius. It was never the nanobytes that made you intelligent, honey. That's all you," Steve assured her.

"I'm slower. I think slower, I move slower . . . it's like, living in slow motion. It's weird." She stopped, shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain -"

"No, don't apologize. It's going to take some continued adjustment, but you're doing great, Riley," he said. "Speaking of continued adjustment, one of us will come down to drive you to physical therapy today."

"I can drive," Riley said.

"You don't have a license yet," Steve reminded her.

"But I can drive," she pointed out. "You shouldn't have to stop your work to come babysit me."

"Not babysitting," Steve said. "If it's a slow day, we'll be fighting for the opportunity to get out. And we will work on getting your license, though, so you can drive. Legally."

#*#*#*#*#

"Good morning, Riley," Charlie said, extending his hand to shake hers.

"Good morning, Dr. Fong," she replied nervously. "Thank you so much for letting me come back."

"Are you kidding? We've missed you. We're glad to have you back, Riley," Charlie said. "And please, absolutely no one in Five-O or even HPD calls me Dr. Fong."

"Dr. Bergman does," Riley said.

"True," Charlie laughed.

"He also thought Steve wanted our DNA compared in order to prove or disprove Steve's possible paternity . . ." Riley mused. "So, okay, yeah, I guess I can call you Charlie. Steve said you had a database in mind that you wanted me to build?"

"Yeah, we've not had the manpower to do that," Charlie said. "Let's go to your office and I can show you what I have in mind."

Riley hesitated at the door of her office. Images of her last day at work at Five-O flashed through her mind unbidden . . . the horrific pain, the inexplicable urge to shoot Charlie, and the equally strong conviction that she somehow had to save his life. She looked down at the floor in the hallway. There was no evidence of blood, or of the extra bullets she'd put into the floor, trying to avoid shooting him.

"Everything here is as good as new, Riley," Charlie said softly. "Including my shoulder. But if you're not ready, it's okay. We'll wait until you're ready."

Riley took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. I'm definitely ready to get back to work."

He opened the door to her office for her. It was just as she remembered; thoughtfully appointed with the low desk that she preferred. There was a plant on the desk, with a card attached.

"Oh, you need to look at that," Charlie said, smiling.

Curious, she picked up the card. "It's from Jerry," she said, laughing. "The plant only needs a few hours of sunlight a week, so I can take it upstairs on the weekends. He should know; he spends a lot of time in the basement."

"Yeah, it's not a window office," Charlie said, apologetically.

"I'm happy in a space that doesn't have a lot of exposure right now," Riley said. "It feels . . . secure."

Charlie nodded seriously. "It is secure, Riley. We have key cards just for this hallway. Steve had a system installed."

She glanced down, embarrassed.

"No, seriously, we have a lot of sensitive evidence in processing down here," Charlie said. "It needed to happen. Okay, let's take a look at this database we'd like you to build for us. It's going to be a lot of work in the creation and initial set-up, but once we get the old cases logged in, and get everyone comfortable with the program, we should be able to stay current . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Chin walked by Steve's office on the way to his own, and paused. Steve was deep in thought, absently rubbing his thumb on the corner of a framed picture of himself, Mary, and Riley. Kono had snapped the picture at a recent barbeque to celebrate Rebecca's new job and apartment, and it turned out so nicely that she'd framed it and left it on Steve's desk.

"Hey, Steve," Chin said quietly, leaning against the open doorway. "Everything okay? I hear Riley came back to work today."

"Yeah," Steve sighed leaning back in his chair. Chin took that as an invitation to come in, and he sat down across from Steve's desk. "She's recovered almost completely, physically, anyway. Still some physical therapy for her knee and shoulder . . ."

"And otherwise?" Chin asked quietly.

Steve pulled a face. "That's going to take a while. Shit, I have nightmares from what they did to her, Chin . . . I can't imagine . . . but some progress is being made. There are still a lot of things we don't understand. A lot of unanswered questions."

"Ah," Chin said. He had a feeling he knew what was weighing on Steve's mind.

"Now that she's stronger, and things have settled . . . I'm just wondering at what point I talk to the girls about what Joe said. About needing to test our DNA against his," Steve said. "I'm just . . . I'm not sure I'm ready."

"For what it's worth, Steve," Chin said carefully, "I think it's okay to give it some time and space. Would opening that particular can of worms make a difference in your day-to-day life with your sisters?"

"No, not really," Steve said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't want it to, anyway."

"Then I think when the time is right to bring it up, you'll know it," Chin said. "As long as they hear it from you . . ."

"Yeah, and if they hear it somewhere else, they'll never trust me again," Steve said.

"That's the tough part," Chin agreed. "Go with your instincts, Steve. And if there's anything I can do . . ."

"Thanks, man," Steve said. His phone pinged with an alarm. "Time for Riley's physical therapy appointment."

"You got it?" Chin asked.

"Yeah, Rebecca or Mary have been taking her . . . I'd like to check in, see how things are going," Steve said.

"Anytime you need any of us . . ." Chin said. "It's understandable that you'd feel especially protective; but you know you can trust any of us to help out . . . to look out for her."

Steve gave Chin's shoulder an appreciative squeeze as they left the office. "Chin, I'll never forget the sight of you carrying her out of WoFat's convoy when we first found her . . . believe me, if there's anyone I trust with her, it's you guys. But today's PT appointment, I have covered."

"You're bored because we don't have a case, admit it," Kono said, poking hopefully at the smart table.

"Kono; you do know that crimes don't magically appear out of the table, right? We get the information sent to us there after the fact," Chin said.

"I know," Kono said morosely. "But in the absence of a case, I thought I could use the plasma to pull up the video of the Surfest in New South Wales . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"She's doing great," the therapist said, after Riley's appointment. "Just a few more sessions . . . and of course, swimming would be a great idea. No surfing until the knee is completely stable."

"Thanks," Steve said, "we can definitely make the swimming happen."

He was pleased to see that Riley barely limped on the way back to his truck - a slightly newer model, same color as his previous Silverado. She'd abandoned the crutches and then the heavy brace, and by the time Rebecca had moved out, was an expert at wrapping her knee herself with a simple supportive elastic bandage.

"Good report," he commented, as she climbed into the truck. She was quiet, looking out the window, when he climbed into the driver's seat. "You don't seem pleased."

"I'd forgotten," she said quietly, "what things felt like before."

"Before the nanotechnology?"

"Yeah. This is taking forever," she said. "Sorry. I'll take the pain over the mind control tricks any day."

He wrapped his hand around her knee. "It's taking a while, but you are healing. And swimming is great therapy for sprains and torn muscles."

"I enjoy swimming, but I'm not a very good swimmer," she said hesitantly. "I know everyone around here assumes that everyone can swim. And surf. I'm . . . I probably would have picked it up really quickly, before . . ."

"Hey, as long as you're enjoying it, that's all that matters. It's moving through the water that helps your knee, not setting new Pacific open water speed records," he said. They stopped at a red light, and he studied her expression. "Riley," he said, realization dawning, "you have absolutely nothing to prove. To anyone. None of this is a test. None of this is training; no one is watching to see if you can go faster, be stronger . . . all we want, all we're looking for, is for you to be happy and healthy. That's it."

"That's my objective?" Riley said, smiling a bit.

Steve laughed. "Yeah, that's your objective. Happy and healthy."

"And build a kick-ass database," Riley added.

"Hooyah."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny?" Rebecca said, hefting her backpack on her shoulder as she climbed down the bus stairs. The apartment that Danny had helped her find was only two blocks from public transportation which would connect her with Queens hospital - a factor which put the place at the top of her list. She didn't want to invest in a car on the island until she was entirely sure of how long she would stay.

"Hey," he said, his blue eyes crinkling in a smile. "I know it's only a two block walk, but I thought it might rain." He offered an umbrella in evidence.

"And that would be why I carry a rainslicker in my backpack," Rebecca said, "and makes you showing up here not at all suspiciously stalkery."

"I wanted to see you, find out how your first day was, and offer to cook dinner for you," Danny said. "Which makes me sound suspiciously anxious to make a good impression."

"Cooking for me definitely makes a good impression, and I'm not the least bit anxious about it," Rebecca said, smiling. They started walking toward her apartment.

"Allow me?" Danny asked, offering a hand out for her backpack.

"After twelve hours on my feet? Sure," Rebecca said. "I'm enough of a feminist to be confident in my choice to let someone else make my life easier."

Danny laughed and slung her backpack over his shoulder. "So, sore feet aside, how was your day?"

"Excellent," Rebecca said. "It's a well-run hospital. Procedures are clear and based on common sense. I think it's going to work. How's Riley? Did you see her today?"

"She was back in the office," Danny said. "Charlie has her creating some massive evidence database; something searchable so that we can cross reference cases."

"Oh, good," Rebecca said, "she was starting to go a little stir-crazy, I think."

"And we know from experience that a bored McGarrett is a bad, bad idea . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve puttered around the kitchen, putting together a simple meal. He could hear Riley in the dining room, fingers flying over the keyboard as she chatted with Jerry.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," she said, "we could program . . . almost like a bot, except just within the database. It could virtually crawl through the evidence . . . okay, that would work. Hold on, I'll ask." There was a pause. "Steve?" she called.

"Yeah, Riley?" he called back. He stopped, closed his eyes, and soaked in the moment. It felt . . . normal. Wonderful . . . like home.

"Can Jerry pitch in on the programming?"

"That's not a problem as long as the actual evidence and data is secure," Steve said. "For now; anyway. I'll work on getting him clearance."

"Seriously?!"

Steve laughed; he wasn't sure who sounded more excited, Riley or Jerry.

"Yep. Hey, dinner is almost ready."

He heard Riley say her goodbyes to Jerry before she came padding into the kitchen.

"Smells good," she said.

"It's scrambled eggs," Steve replied wryly. "I can grill a great steak, and I make excellent scrambled eggs. Otherwise . . ."

Riley shrugged. "I really like scrambled eggs, though. We had chickens at Frank's. They roosted in Tangerine, sometimes."

#*#*#*#*#

His eyes popped open around two am; instantly and fully awake, without knowing why. He forced himself to be still, to listen, to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

It was the slide of the drawer in the kitchen; the one that held the knives.

"Shit," he whispered, a million scenarios running through his head as he grabbed his SIG from the drawer. A random burglar, deciding to arm themselves. Riley, arming herself against an intruder - real or imagined. Images of her on the ground next to his truck, his diving knife . . .

He crept down the stairs silently. With no light coming from either Riley's room or the kitchen, he decided to check on her first, and cautiously pushed her unlatched door open.

"Riley?" he whispered, peering in. Both beds were unoccupied, one of them still made neatly, the other a tangle of sheets.

He continued toward the kitchen, calling out louder. "Riley, you okay?"

There was a scraping sound, and he entered the kitchen cautiously. Riley was wedging a chair under the handle of the back door. He glanced into the living room to see another chair wedged at the front door.

"Riley, honey, what's going on?" he asked. "Did you hear something?"

She hefted the knife in her hand and nodded, then crossed to the corner of the kitchen that gave her sight lines to both doors. Her back pressed into the corner, she sank down gracefully into a lotus position, watching. She held the knife in an almost casual grip, but Steve could see the line of tension in her shoulders.

He realized that she'd not made eye contact with him, and wondered if the nod was even in response to his question.

"Riley, I'm going to look outside," he said, going to the back door and carefully pulling back the curtain. He went to the window next. "I don't see anything. What did you hear?"

She looked at him then, her head tilted slightly in confusion. "She hasn't come back," she said. "I went into the city, to look for her. I wasn't supposed to. If she didn't come back, I was supposed to stay right here, until someone came for me; someone with credentials. An American. But it's been days, and I went into the city to look for her, and I think maybe someone followed me. I don't know what to do."

"Oh, Riley, honey," Steve breathed. He put the safety back on his SIG. "Riley, you're not there, you're not in Tokyo anymore. You're here, with me, in Hawaii. You're safe."

She smiled at him, sad and fond. "It's okay; I know you're not real. I've seen you before, when I was dreaming." She paused, looked at him apprehensively. "Sometimes the dreams are bad."

"Riley, I'm right here, I swear. I'm going to come closer, okay? So you can see that I'm real. And the bad dreams you had about me, they were a trick. Someone tried to trick you, but you were stronger. Just like you're stronger now," he said. He slid down to the floor next to her, his eyes locked on the knife, ready to block if she lashed out. "Reach out and take my hand, Riley, so you can see that I'm real. I'm right here."

She touched his hand, and then pulled back quickly in surprise.

"See? I'm right here. You're home; with me. Mary was here, too, remember? She just left to go back to LA. And you were at work today, in your office, at Five-O," he said, capturing her hand in his.

She shook her head. "No, Five-O isn't real. I made it up when something bad happened. I wish it was real. It seems real."

He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, then a thought struck him. "Hey, what if I showed you credentials?"

"Credentials," she said dubiously.

"Can you sit right here? And . . . how about you let me hold the knife?"

"How about you show me the credentials?"

He had to smother a grin. Even caught between dream, memory, and reality, she was as skeptical and sarcastic as ever.

"Fair enough," he nodded. "I'm going to stand up, now, and go to my desk, okay?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly at the knife.

"This is for anyone coming through those doors," she explained.

"Okay, that's good. While I go get my credentials, then, think about the fact that I was already inside, here, with you, before you bolted the doors," he suggested. He saw her glance between the doors and then at him as he made his way carefully to his desk, where he picked up his shield and ID from their customary resting place.

He slid back down beside her, handing her the items, hoping that the tangible evidence would trigger something and ground her in reality. She turned the shield over and over in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the edge.

"Real," she said, her voice hoarse. "You're real. All of it?"

"All of it, Riley," Steve said, putting his arm around her. He closed his hand around hers gently, carefully, and took the knife.

"What if I really heard something, though?" she whispered. "What if someone is trying to get in?"

"Then I will take care of them," Steve said. "But I checked. There's no sign of anyone. I think you had a bad dream, and woke up confused."

"Am I losing my mind?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

"No, honey, I don't think so," he said. "This happens to me sometimes, too. I have a bad dream, about something that happened, or I get knocked out, and get confused. When our trucks were hit, when we were trying to get you to Tripler? At first, I didn't know who Danny was. And I thought I was in another country and another time completely. I'm sorry that this happens to you, and I wish it didn't, and hopefully someday it won't, not nearly as much. But it happens to a lot of people who have been through really traumatic events."

"I'm not crazy? No one is . . . what if we missed something? What if there are more nanobytes?"

"The doctors used the files that Shelburne gave us, and checked everything they could. I really don't think they missed anything. But if it would make you feel better, we can check. I'll take you to Tripler tomorrow," he said, kissing the top of her head as he nudged it down to rest on his shoulder. He felt her nod. "Okay, I'll call first thing in the morning."

"You call her Shelburne," she mumbled. "Not Doris, not Olivia - well, you wouldn't - and not mom. Mother. Just Shelburne."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's . . . I can't wrap my brain around the person who raised me, who I thought died when I was sixteen, as the same person I saw in that bunker. I'm sorry, though -"

"No," she interrupted quickly. "No, it's better. Shelburne is better. That's what we call her."

"Okay," he said, holding her tighter.

"I can't believe you're real," she whispered. "I wish you had come instead of Joe. In Tokyo."

"I know," he said, squeezing his eyes closed against a sudden stinging. "If I had known . . . Riley, if I'd had a clue . . . I would have come for you. Nothing would have stopped me. I will always come for you. Got it?"

She nodded, finally relaxing, and letting him hold her.

"And Mary," she added.

"Yes, and Mary," he said. "Any of our ohana. We always look out for each other. You are not alone."

She nodded again, and yawned.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But it's okay. Mary brought down a box of books. I'll read."

He thought for a moment. "Okay, if you want to read, that's fine, Riley. How about this - you get back in bed, and read, and I'll bunk in the other bed in your room. That way, if you get sleepy, you can just fall asleep, and I'll be right there if you have another bad dream, or if you wake up."

"Or if someone really is trying to get in," she said. "The chairs stay in front of the doors."

"That's fine, too," he agreed. "I do have a security system, you know."

She pulled back and looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Those are fairly easily disabled."

He smiled, remembering how easy it was for her to disable the system for an entire building, with a roll-up keyboard.

"Fair enough," he agreed. He stood, and reached down a hand to pull her up. "I'm going to go up and get my phone," he said, steadying her as she swayed tiredly.

"'S'fine," she said, "I gotta hit the head."

On his way up the stairs, Steve pondered the fact that Mary was the only woman in his life who didn't refer to the bathroom as the 'head', and shrugged.

#*#*#*#*#

The weak rays of dawn revealed Riley, sound asleep, her finger stuck somewhere near the middle of _A Wrinkle In Time_. Steve smiled, remembering Mary carrying the dogearred copy of that book around with her everywhere. He was surprised it hadn't made it into the very few suitcases they each packed up when their dad sent them away.

"Hey," Riley said, her voice raspy with sleep and lingering exhaustion. "Not that I mind, at all, but why are you in my room?" She peered at him, confused, still nestled in the blanket, her hair in tousled waves around her face.

Steve sat up on the edge of his bed. Danny had been right; separating the bunk beds and placing them on opposite sides of the room had been a good idea.

"What do you remember about last night?" he asked.

"I think I had a bad dream . . . about going to look for . . . her. And thinking someone had followed me home," she said. "I don't - I remember talking to you. Did we talk?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "You armed yourself with a kitchen knife, barricaded the doors, and demanded to see my credentials."

"Oh, no," Riley groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "I'm sorry," she said, the words muffled.

"It's okay, Riley," he assured her. "Last night, you indicated that you might want to get the docs at Tripler to double check you. Do you still want to do that? I can call."

She thought about it a moment. "Why did I want to see your credentials?"

"You weren't sure that I was real," he answered. "It took me a while to convince you."

"Then, yeah," she said, softly. "It's just . . . you have no idea. It - she told me that you were the one . . . they messed with - they made it seem so real, Steve. That you were the one who hurt me. And that everyone else was a figment of my imagination. They almost . . . I almost believed it. Completely. They were close."

"Shh," he said. "But they didn't, right? It's okay. We'll get Major Link to just double check, then we'll both feel better. I'm confident that everything is fine. Remember, I have bad dreams and wake up disoriented, too."

"I know, but you don't shoot your boss . . . oh, no," Riley said. "Wait, I'm working on a project, I can't -"

"Yeah, you absolutely can," Steve said. "Who would have a more vested interest in making sure you're nanobyte free?"

Riley stuck her tongue out at him. "You're terrible. You are a terrible, terrible person."

"Too soon?" Steve asked, in mock innocence. "I'll call Major Link. You call Charlie, tell him you'll be in as soon as Link clears you. It's fine, Riley. It was a given that you'd have appointments and follow ups, and good days and bad days."

"And what's your excuse for being late to work?"

"I have a sister who needs me," Steve said fondly. "And my co-workers are just going to have to be jealous."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sat with Link in the MRI observation booth.

"We can't put her in an MRI every time she has a nightmare, Commander," he said.

"I know," Steve agreed, rubbing his hand over his face.

"What you described when you called this morning sounds like pretty typical PTSD," Link continued, not unkindly.

"I know," Steve said. "I just . . . Major, I'm in over my head here."

"Well, it's uncharted territory for us, too," Link replied. "But one thing I can tell you for sure - nothing is lighting up on the MRI. Want to see the comparison from the last one?"

"Yeah, please," Steve said, leaning forward in curiousity.

Link put up an image which looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "See? What looks like entire constellations? We don't see that, ever, on MRIs. We assume that had to be nanobytes. And then here . . ." he put up another image. "No indication. That was at the end of the initial MRI when you brought her in from . . . well. When you brought her in."

"And today's image?" Steve asked anxiously.

Before Major Link could answer, there was a soft knock at the door. He stood and opened it. "Lieutenant Rollins, glad you could make it."

Steve stood in surprise, and barely resisted grabbing Catherine in a hug. He pulled his hands back awkwardly.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Steve said. "Who called you?"

"Well, Riley is still of keen interest as a connection to WoFat, and unfortunately, any time there's a concern, even a potential concern, about the nanotechnology, I'll get an official call," she explained. "Please, don't let me interrupt."

"I was just explaining to Commander McGarrett that his sister's MRI looks completely normal; no evidence of nanobytes," Link assured him. "I'm still seeing a residual abnormality in the bilateral amygdala."

"The fear - anger center," Steve said. "Has there been any change?"

"No, not that I can tell, comparing two images," Link said.

Steve sighed in disappointment.

"No changes - no deterioration, no evidence of continuing damage," Link said. "It's not a bad thing. And it's soon. She's young, healthy . . . it could improve."

"And in the meantime?"

Link hesitated, remembering all too well what Riley was capable of when spooked - his nose still ached when storm systems moved through. "Keep an eye on her. Enhanced or not, she's had similar training to yours, and she's remarkably strong for her size. She's got a good reach on her. And if she has trouble differentiating the sensation and response of fear and anger . . . a situation in which a normal response would be to take cover, seek help . . . well. She could, instead, be unreasonably aggressive. Which may not be in her best interests."

Steve chuckled. "Or the safety of those around her."

"Well, you don't want to get on her bad side. I'll give you two a few minutes to, ah, debrief, and I'll ask the nurses to help Riley get situated and ready to leave." He grinned as he left the room.

"Cath," Steve said, grabbing her and wrapping her in a hug. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of her shampoo. "Thank you for coming. I know it's your job but you could ask for reports . . . thanks."

"Hey," she said, squeezing his arm. "I was told that she had a rough night, and that you were bringing her in for an MRI; I wasn't sure if any of the team would be here, figured you could use a little company."

"I didn't tell the team what happened . . . Riley was freaked out enough last night that she wanted to get checked out, but almost talked me out of bringing her this morning. I didn't think she'd want the extra attention. Yesterday was her first day back, so she called Charlie, and I just let Danny know I'd be late."

"Steve, she's okay," Catherine said. "And now you've both been reassured, and you can go on."

"Today," he said, sighing. "What about tomorrow, and tomorrow night . . . God, Cath, I'm in over my head, here."

"We'll get her some help, Steve," Catherine said. "Major Link can make some calls; I can, too. And I have a three day weekend off-base this weekend. I could stay with you a couple of nights."

"Yeah?" His face lit up. "That'd be . . . you know I love it when you can stay, but if she - Cath, she had a knife last night."

"I guess it's handy then, that I'm a highly trained, exceptionally skilled Naval Intelligence officer," Catherine said, smacking him. "Stop being a caveman. I'm coming for the weekend. If things get rough, you have back-up. If not . . ."

"Hooyah," Steve whispered, deciding it was worth a bit of embarrassment if he got caught kissing her in the MRI observation booth.

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks," Riley said quietly, as they headed toward the palace. "I'm sorry you had to . . . I'm sorry."

"Riley, it's okay," Steve assured her. "It's okay that you're spooked. But everything looked good, I swear to you. Everything Major Link explained to you, I saw with my own eyes."

"I know. Thank you. And it was nice to see Catherine again," Riley said, looking at Steve out of the corner of her eye and smiling.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. He hesitated, then decided it was best for everything to be as transparent as possible. "You're still her best lead - Naval Intelligence's best lead - to WoFat. So, anything that is of concern . . . is of concern. First and foremost for your protection; but beyond that . . ."

Riley nodded. "I understand. You could just turn me loose in Tokyo, see if he comes after me again," she said.

Steve almost rear-ended the car stopped at the light in front of them. "What?! No, no we could not just turn you loose - why would you -"

"It might work," Riley said, shrugging. "Jerry could tag me with another tracker."

"We are not discussing this," Steve said, his hands white knuckled around the steering wheel.

"It should be kept in play as an option," Riley said seriously. "Now, about Catherine."

Steve blinked. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the high-test coffee at Tripler, but he was having trouble keeping up with Riley's segues.

"Okay," he said. Anything was better than talking about using Riley as bait for WoFat.

"You smell like her. Lavender and vanilla. It's nice," she said, smiling.

"Oh," he said, grinning sheepishly at her. "She has leave off-base this weekend, and we thought she might come to the house. Is that okay?"

"Duh, you don't need my permission," Riley said.

Steve laughed. "Mary has rubbed off on you. 'Duh'? That's what you're going with?"

"Sure, it's the appropriate colloquial rejoinder for the conversation," Riley said. "But you're wandering off-topic."

 _Colloquial rejoinder_ , Steve mouthed to himself, as he parked the truck and they started making their way into the palace.

"If Catherine is coming for the weekend, I need to clear out," Riley said firmly, "and give you some privacy. You've essentially been living in a girls' dorm for weeks. Hey, Danny!"

"Hey, guys," Danny said, coming off the elevator.

"What's up, do we have a case?" Steve asked, frowning as he grabbed his phone. No one had called.

"No we do not - I wanted to come down, see that Riley is okay," he said.

Riley looked reproachfully at Steve.

"I didn't say anything," Steve said, holding his hands up in protest.

"I'm a detective, kid," Danny said, wrapping her in one of his bear hugs. "Unscheduled appointment of non-specific nature . . . plus, you both look like you didn't sleep last night. You okay?" He patted her head fondly.

"I'm fine, Danny," Riley said, "and Steve got to see Catherine."

"Nice deflection," Danny said. "And I'm willing to go with it, so what about living in a girls' dorm?"

"Catherine is coming this weekend, and I want them to have a nice weekend, without me underfoot, because Steve deserves that," Riley said. "Don't you agree, Danny?"

"I do, in fact, agree that Steve and Catherine are due a nice weekend together," Danny said, "but you are not underfoot. I'm sure any of us would be delighted to host you for the weekend, Riley."

"Okay, we'll talk about it," Steve interrupted quickly, "but we better both get back to work."

"Yeah, your boss is a real hard-ass," Danny said. He kissed Riley on the cheek and then turned to push the button for the elevators.

Steve wrapped his arms around Riley. "You need anything; anything at all, I'm right upstairs, yeah?"

She nodded. "I feel embarrassed now," she said. "It was just a bad dream. Can we just - everything's fine now, okay?"

The elevators dinged at the same time, and Steve tousled her hair as she hefted her backpack and stepped onto the descending elevator. He joined Danny, sighing and leaning against the railing.

"You look like shit, Steven," Danny said quietly. "What the hell happened?"

"Woke up to Riley barricading the front and back doors and wielding a kitchen knife," he said succinctly. "Took me awhile to get her reoriented. We went to see Major Link, just to be sure . . ."

"She wasn't back online?"

"Yeah. No issues there, thank God. So it was just . . ."

"Just like the time you talked me into going camping, and you woke up, convinced that we were hiding from insurgents?" Danny asked quietly.

"Yeah, pretty much like that," Steve said, wincing at the memory.

"Okay, well, don't you think that's to be expected?" Danny asked gently.

Steve stared at him, a horrified expression on his face. "Danny, I - shit, Danny. You're right, but that - what that's like - I don't want that for her, Danny," he said, his voice breaking.

Danny sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick text and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Okay, big guy," Danny said fondly, "you are fantastic when the bullets are flying, but we're past that point and getting into the part where we deal with the aftermath, and thankfully, that is my specialty. Come on."

Steve followed Danny off the elevator, into Danny's office.

"Danny, I probably have ten calls and twice that many emails -" he started to protest, but Danny cut him off.

"And that's why we're in my office," he said, closing the door firmly behind him, and sliding the blinds closed. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to a comfortable chair.

Steve sank into the chair and put his head in his hands. He was vaguely aware of the door opening, and Danny's soft 'thanks, babe', and then a cup of hot tea appeared under his face.

"Tea?" he confirmed, trying not to sound entirely too grateful.

"Kono made it; extra honey," Danny said.

Steve sipped it appreciatively. "'S'good," he mumbled. "Thanks."

"Okay, so here's how this is going to work," Danny said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "Things are going to get better, Steve, you have to believe that. Things will settle in, they always do. But you're going to quit trying to be the one-man army that fixes it."

"Navy," Steve replied automatically.

"Fine. Mary went back to LA, Rebecca started a civilian life, and Riley started back to work. It was a couple of days of huge transition. Isn't that one of the triggers?"

"Triggers?"

"For PTSD, yes, triggers."

Steve stared at Danny blankly.

"What, they just wind you up and send you to God-knows-where and then . . ." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nevermind. Okay, so give it a little time, and maybe some professional help."

"Like, a nurse?" Steve asked, wrinkling up his face.

"Like - no, Steven, like, professional help, which I've been begging you to get, for this very reason - for the waking up and hiding from insurgents and walking around with kitchen knives in the middle of the night. Professional, psychiatric help. For both of you, seriously," Danny ranted, waving his hands.

"But Danny, I -"

"You. You just said that you didn't want this for her," Danny reminded him.

"I don't, Danny - I - what goes on, inside my head, Danny, I wouldn't wish that on -. Oh."

"Yeah, oh. So isn't it worth a try, see if there's someone who can help her?" Danny asked. He fished around in his desk and pulled out a stash of chocolate. He broke off a piece and handed it to Steve.

"Yeah, if there's someone who can help her, then . . . " Steve trailed off, nibbling the chocolate absently. "This is good," he said, half surprised.

"It's chocolate," Danny said, "of course it's good. I keep a steady supply for Kono."

"Kono?"

"You really are a Neanderthal. Yes, Kono, and you and Chin owe me, and this chocolate, your lives, some days. So if it's worth a try to see if we can get Riley some help, don't you think you owe it to yourself to try, too?" Danny decided he also deserved some chocolate.

Steve looked at him dubiously.

"Steve," Danny tried a different tactic. "You could hurt someone. You and Riley both. Get some help."

Steve nodded slowly. That night, when he'd shoved Danny into a cave, protecting him from the enemy . . . he had woken up in a cold sweat for many nights after that, wondering what would have happened if he had mistaken Danny for the enemy.

"Okay, I'll contact Major Link," Steve said. "Because all of this, it's classified, Danny . . . "

"I get that," Danny said. "It has to be the right set-up. Now. This weekend - Riley is absolutely right. You, my friend, need a break. Let Riley come stay with me, or have a girls' weekend with Kono."

"Danny, it's not that easy," Steve said. "Like you said, she could hurt someone."

"You don't think Kono or I could handle her?" Danny laughed.

"No," Steve said, deadly serious. "No, Danny, I don't think you could. And not just because you wouldn't want to hurt her. She's had . . . Danny, Riley and I weren't taught self-defense. We were taught to kill. Trained. To kill."

Danny felt a chill go up his spine.

"Danny, why do you think I have you take me to Tripler instead of Queens if I take a really hard hit?"

"Their trauma ranking is higher?"

"They're military, not civilian. I have you take me to Tripler to protect civilians, Danny. Because if I'm not coherent; if I'm not in control . . ."

Danny let that sink in for a minute. "Okay," he said finally. "I get it. Doesn't change the fact that you have got to have a break, Steve. What about Joe?"

"What about him?"

"Let her go stay with Joe. He trained her, he could handle her, right?" Danny reasoned.

"Yeah, but - can I trust him?" Steve asked.

"That's a question for you and Riley to answer, but my gut says yeah," Danny said. "Now, yeah, you can."

"I'll think about it, Danny," Steve said. "Talk to Riley about it tonight. Okay?"

"Fair enough," Danny said, nodding. "And you'll make the other call, to Major Link."

"Yeah, Danno."

"Come'ere," Danny said, pulling Steve up and into a big hug.

"You're convinced that people need hugging," Steve groused, even as he welcomed the gesture.

"I am, and they do," Danny said. "Now, go to work, keep this god-forsaken pineapple infested heap of volcanic ash safe."

#*#*#*#*#

By the weekend, a plan was in place.

"It's only a forty minute drive," Steve said, as he put his duffle bag in his truck. Riley was on the front porch, watching him in amusement, while Joe was already relaxing in the chairs by the water. "Anything - anything at all comes up, you call me."

"Yes, Steve," Riley said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be fine. I would have been fine by myself."

Steve paused on the front porch. "Maybe - but you know - when I approached Joe with the idea, he was really, really happy, Riley. I think - I think he wants an opportunity to make amends."

"It's taking a lot, for you to trust him, isn't it?" Riley asked.

"Yes," he answered simply. "But my gut tells me it's the right thing to do. I'm going to go say goodbye to him - would you watch for Catherine? She should be here any minute."

Steve sat down next to Joe and looked out over the water, silent for a long moment.

"I sense that I'm about to be given a condition," Joe said, his eyes crinkling.

Steve laughed. "I haven't said anything to the girls. About - checking our DNA any further. It's too much, too soon, Joe. I will. I just need a little time."

"I understand, son," Joe said. "It's not my place to say anything, don't worry. A word of wisdom, though, if I may? Secrets . . . they have a way of coming out. And because of the way I brought it up, some of your team knows. Chin knows -" He stopped.

"Chin knows what?" Steve demanded. "Did Chin know-"

"No, no, Steve - Chin never knew that your mother and I - he never would have kept that from your father. No, Chin knows that in regards to the DNA, well . . . I know what I'd like the outcome to be, if you ever decide to check," Joe said quietly. "I didn't mean to involve my own emotions, it's not my place - he just picked up on something."

"Joe, I -" Steve stopped, shook his head. "I don't know how to feel about any of this."

"You shouldn't have to," Joe said. "It's not a burden you should have ever had to bear. I think I hear the purr of that sports car of Catherine's. You two have a nice break - you need it. Don't worry about things here."

When Steve reached the front porch, Riley was helping Catherine load her bag into Steve's truck.

"Not even a hint?" Catherine teased.

"Nope," Riley said. "It will be a surprise, and you'll love it. I hope. I mean, you will. I know you will."

Steve slung an arm around Riley's shoulder and kissed her cheek. "Yes, she will. Thank you."

#*#*#*#*#

"I really don't need a babysitter," Riley pointed out, sitting down next to Joe.

"No, you certainly don't," Joe agreed. "But Steve would like his house in one piece when he gets back. And his kitchen knives all where they belong."

"Hey," she protested.

"Riley, there's no shame in struggling to adjust," Joe said. "Remember the night that Frank was convinced that the Viet Cong was tunneling up into the cabin?"

She thought for a moment. "That's what that was? I thought it was a bad trip or something. That - wow; that makes sense now."

"Damn straight," Joe said. "I'm sorry, Riley, for everything you've experienced - so sorry, that much of it has been a result of my poor choices - but no one is surprised that you're having some issues. Steve says you started meeting with someone."

"Yeah," Riley nodded.

"Think it will help?"

She shrugged.

"Ah. Not interested in talking to me about it. That's fair. If and when you'd like to, Riley, I'm here. I know a thing or two about what you're experiencing. In the meantime - what would you like to do with our weekend?" Joe asked.

Riley's eyes sparkled.

"I have a few ideas . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"I didn't know you had it in you, sailor," Catherine teased, "planning a romantic get-away."

"It was actually Riley's idea," he admitted. "Sorry, Cath - I guess I really could have done better in the romance department."

"Hey, you arranged a chopper ride from the top of Tripler," Catherine said. "That counts in my book."

"Yeah?" Steve said, grinning.

"Yeah - wait, what are you thinking?"

"Nothing . . . look. We're here."

Catherine looked out and gasped as the mountain home left to Riley by Hideki Mokoto came into view. "Steve," she said, "it's stunning. Is this -"

"Mokoto's house," he nodded. "Well, Riley's now. And she wanted us to come here, enjoy it."

Catherine smiled up at Steve, then sobered when she saw the solemn expression on his face. "Hey, Steve," she said, "what's going on?"

"They . . . this is where it all started to go sideways," he said, trailing his hand up the railing as they went up the stairs. He unlocked the front door and held it for Catherine to go inside. "They got to her, here," he continued, following her in. "She had a seizure . . . we may never know if that happened on its own and they capitalized on it, or if they triggered it. And that's when they started with the pictures."

"Pictures . . . when they linked your image with the pain and fear centers . . . wow."

"Yeah, it was -" he stopped, ruefully rubbing a hand over his eyes. "She was terrified. Of me. The kind of abject terror that I've only seen in . . . well, not on US soil, even. I hadn't thought, coming back here -"

Mokoto's estate had retained a minimal staff, and they'd come, quietly and efficiently, and restored the house and grounds to order. But Steve could still picture the bank of computer equipment which Riley and Jerry had set up, could still picture Riley looking up at him in terror as he'd crouched next to her, could still picture getting into the truck to go to Tripler . . .

"Hey," Catherine said, putting her hand on his arm, "we can go somewhere else."

"No," he said quickly, "No, Riley specifically said to make some happy memories here, so that's what we're going to do. She said something about . . . energy, or something. Probably something she picked up from the monks."

"Okay. So, where do we start with some happy?"

Steve smirked at her.

"Other than the obvious," she added, rolling her eyes.

"There's an amazing garden in the back," he said. "I think, Catherine, that it would make me very happy to hold your hand and walk in the garden."

#*#*#*#*#

The range fell silent as the handful of law enforcement agents and sport shooters stopped their own target practice and stared, mesmerized, at the slender young woman picking off targets at an impossible distance. A man, clearly ex-military in his bearing, stood over her, spotting the targets with a set of worn binocs.

"Well done," Joe said, smiling down at Riley. She squinted up at him, rubbing her shoulder absently. Joe caught the action and raised his eyebrows. "And with that, we better call it a day. Nice shooting."

"Nice rifle," Riley said, rubbing her hand over the smooth stock.

"It was your father's," Joe said quietly, congratulating himself for not stumbling over the word. "Not sure why he wanted me to have it, but he did, and I've treasured it. Brought Steve out with it not too long ago."

"Yeah? How'd he do?" Riley asked, trying to sound casual, but dying of curiousity.

Joe laughed. "You mean, is he better than you?"

"Yeah," Riley admitted, grinning. "So?"

"A little," Joe said. "More practice, more training. More experience."

"You mean, like combat experience," Riley said. "Was I supposed to get combat experience?"

Joe was momentarily taken aback. "Honestly? I'm not sure," he said. "From the files your mother gave us, we know that some of the things that happened were considered field tests."

"Shelburne. We call her Shelburne," Riley said. "And what things? Like the museum bombing?"

"Yep. Shelburne, hunh?"

"Yes," Riley said tersely.

Joe wisely decided to not investigate that further. "So, we've visited the range. What else did you have in mind?"

"How do you feel about video games?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you," Steve said, as Catherine handed him a steaming cup of tea. He smiled at her as she settled into the chair next to his on the porch.

"The gardens are stunning," she said, "but this view is hard to beat, too. Thank you, Steve, for taking Riley up on her suggestion. This is lovely."

He nodded, staring pensively out over the mountainside. "I feel like . . ." he sighed.

"Like you're coming up for air for the first moment in a very long time?" Catherine suggested.

"Yeah," he said, smiling at her again.

"You are, Steve. I've been - we've all been worried about you. What you've been handed to deal with in the last year, it's a lot. A lesser man might have given up, walked away from all of it," Catherine said. "You've stayed the course, looked out for your family, your team . . ." She put her tea down and unfolded her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, and stood behind Steve, her hands resting on his shoulders. Feeling the tension there, she started pressing her thumbs carefully into the tight muscles, smiling as she was rewarded with a relieved groan from Steve. "So, give yourself a couple days to come up for air, Steve. Let me look out for you for a little bit, okay?"

He nodded and dropped his head forward, allowing her strong, capable hands to coax out some of the tension and strain in his shoulders. After a few moments, he reached up and covered one of her hands in his own.

"Catherine," he said, tugging gently on her hand. She allowed him to pull her in front of him, and she stood, smiling down him, her hand cupping his face. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything. For putting up with all of the crazy . . ."

She slid into his lap, her trim legs easily fitting on either side of him in the porch chair, winding her hands around his neck.

"I wouldn't imagine it any other way, Steve," she said.

His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her tight, as he closed the distance between them and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. He slid one hand up to tangle in her hair as he stood, fast enough to make her gasp and giggle, and wrap her legs around his waist.

"I think, actually, that maybe I won't come up for air for just a little bit," he murmured, as he buried his face in her neck, trailing kisses from behind her ear to her collarbone. "Would that be okay, too?"

"I think that would be acceptable," she said, her fingers once again seeking purchase on his shoulders and holding on tight.

"In that case, Lieutenant," he said, nudging open the front door, "allow me to show you the master suite."

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was setting, highlighting the mountainside with vibrant pinks and oranges, as Catherine padded into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from a shower, hanging in loose waves over the collar of Steve's shirt. He smiled appreciatively at the sight.

"I didn't feel like rummaging in my suitcase," she explained. "Let me guess," she said, peering over his shoulder at the grill pan heating on the high end gas range. "Steak?"

"Steak," he confirmed.

"And scrambled eggs in the morning?" she teased. "Your specialties."

"Specialties," he laughed, "that's being generous. I also brought cereal and oatmeal; but definitely, scrambled eggs if you're hungry."

"I think," she said, standing on tiptoe and pulling him down for a kiss, "that I will be hungry."

#*#*#*#*#


	32. Rivals 1

"Did you have a nice weekend?" Riley asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet and grinning at Steve.

"I did, thank you very much," Steve said, grabbing her in a hug. "Dropped Cath back off at Pearl just before I headed home. She said to tell you thank you, that the home is lovely, and that she appreciates you sharing it."

Riley beamed at him. "I think that's what it should be . . . like, a retreat. For Five-O and their family. Like our own little monastery. Unless you don't want - if you think I should move out -"

"No," Steve said quickly. "Not until you are sick and tired of me. And I think it's a great idea, Riley."

Joe nodded in approval. "It makes a great retreat. Or a safe-house."

"Both," Riley said, nodding emphatically.

"I need to leave," Joe said, squeezing Riley's hand. "It was fun, Riley. Can I talk to Steve for just a minute before I go?"

Riley nodded and hugged Joe. "Thanks, Joe, for taking me to the range. I'll see you soon?"

Joe hesitated. "I hope so, Riley."

She gave him a measured look and then padded off to the back lanai.

"What's up, Joe?" Steve asked, folding his arms. "When you say you have to go, you don't just mean leave the house, do you?"

"No, Steve, I'm sorry," Joe said. "There's a lead on WoFat. I'm heading out tonight."

"Well, I'll call Danny, I'll come, we can-"

"No, Steve. It's not an official lead, and it's not a sanctioned mission," Joe said.

"You should tell Catherine," Steve insisted.

"Steve, I know I don't have any right to ask you to trust me, but I am. I can't tell Catherine, not this time. Not yet. And for Riley's sake, and the safety of your team, you need to stay as far away from this one as you can," Joe said. "If it were different, I'd love nothing more than to have you - and your sister, for that matter - as my back-up. But I can't. Not this time."

"Joe we just got everyone out of the hospital . . . Riley is still in physical therapy and she just started seeing someone . . . she needs us, Joe; she needs all of us," Steve protested.

"And you, son? Do you have what you need?" Joe asked.

"I'm fine, Joe," Steve said impatiently.

Joe sighed. "I'm sorry, Steve, I am. But this is the best way I can think of to try to keep my promise to your father. I need to do this, to try to keep you and Riley, and your team, safe. I have to go."

"Joe, I -" Steve stopped short.

"There's a DNA sample of mine in your top desk drawer. The one that's locked," Joe said kindly. "Just in case . . . "

"Just in case - shit, Joe."

"Let's say - just in case you decide to have it tested, before I get back," Joe said. "You'll say goodbye to Riley for me?"

Steve stared at him for a long moment. "No. No, I won't do that, Joe. You need to say goodbye yourself. She's had enough of people coming up missing in her life."

"Okay, son." Joe nodded and headed toward the back of the house.

Steve stood at the kitchen counter and looked out the back window, watching as Riley shook her head and turned away from Joe. After a moment, Joe rested his hands gently on Riley's shoulders and turned her back to him. She flung her arms around his neck as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. Finally, Steve saw her take a step back and nod. Joe kissed her forehead and hugged her again, then walked around the side of the house and disappeared. Riley sat down in one of the chairs by the water.

Steve walked out the back door to join her and sat with her in silence for a while, looking out over the water.

"He's leaving for a while," Riley said. "Is he going after WoFat? Or Shelburne? He wouldn't tell me. Just that he needed to do this, to keep us safe. We can take care of ourselves. He shouldn't be going around without backup."

"He's doing what he thinks is best, Riley," Steve said. "And if he's right, if he needs to do this, and we need to stay here, in order to keep the team safe, then . . ."

"You'll have to take his word for it?"

"Yeah."

"Because he and Shelburne have been so trustworthy in the past," Riley said bitterly.

"Riley, look at me," Steve said firmly.

She turned to face him, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Oh, honey," Steve sighed. He held his arms out to her. "Come here." He wrapped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I. Am. Not. Leaving. Okay? I'm not leaving you, Riley."

She nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

He waited a while, to let that sink in.

"I blame Danny," she said, finally.

"Honey, we all blame Danny," he said, rubbing her shoulder. "What do you blame Danny for, in particular?"

"All of this -" she gestured at herself in frustration; looking, ironically, much like Danny. "All of this . . . emotion stuff. I was never like this."

"Yeah. Danny does this sort of stealth thing."

"He's probably really good at interrogating suspects, isn't he?" she asked. "Makes them talk about their feelings. Next thing you know . . ."

Steve chuckled. It was true.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, what part of the database are you working on now?" Steve asked, as they drove to the palace.

"It's amazing," Riley said, "I'm entering photos and descriptions of tattoos. Unbelievable. The key is to use consistent descriptives. Like, if one person uses the word 'blue' and another person uses 'teal' and another person uses 'blue-green', you won't get an accurate search. So, Charlie and I are creating a . . . hmm . . . sort of a users manual. So you know how to enter your descriptions for the best possible search results."

"Sounds impressive," Steve said. "Chin's going to love it."

"I hope it will help," Riley said. "I feel like . . . is this just busy work? Because I could get a job. I do have a pretty broad skill set."

"This is not busy work," Steve said emphatically. "HPD and Five-O work well together, but there's . . . our systems don't exactly mesh."

Riley snorted. "I don't think Five-O had a system."

"You questioning my methods?" Steve teased.

"Noooo, not me," Riley said. "But I am impressed with how many ways Danny can say 'Steve wrecked the car' or 'Steve started a fire fight'. Seriously. It's impressive."

"Danny's vocabulary or my ability to wreck cars and start fire fights?" Steve asked, as he turned off the ignition.

Riley thought about that as she got out of the truck. "Both," she decided.

#*#*#*#*#

It was mid-morning when Charlie stuck his head in Riley's office.

"Interested in a field trip?" he asked, smiling. "We've been invited to a crime scene."

"Absolutely," Riley said, rising gracefully from the cushion behind her low desk. A slight wince was the only indication that her knee had been recently injured, and after a few steps she walked easily.

"Knee is better?" Charlie asked, holding the door open for her.

"Much," she said. "Shoulder?" she asked quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Good as new," he assured her. "And the scar is a great conversation piece on the beach."

She looked at him, horrified. "And you say, what - my boss's kid sister shot me?"

"No way," Charlie said, leading the way to the HPD issue crime tech van. "I usually recount some exploit of saving someone's life in some dramatic fashion."

Riley studied him for a moment as she fastened her seatbelt. "It's not a stretch, you know. Pretty sure you going along with . . . all of that - you probably did save my life. In some dramatic fashion."

"Well, then, it all worked out just fine, see?"

Riley shook her head. "I still can't believe you're so nice about it. Where are we going?"

"Steve and the team have a couple dead bodies down at the dock; they want us to come get photos of the ink, and other details, and try it through our database. They don't know the parameters yet, so Chin thought it would be better if we tried the initial search," Charlie explained.

"That makes sense," Riley said. "I haven't created a key word search spreadsheet for tattoos yet. This will help refine it."

"I didn't ask - are you okay with doing this?" Charlie asked, glancing at her in concern. "I'm sorry. Dead bodies - I should have checked. If you're not up for it -"

"It's fine," Riley assured him. "I can handle it."

They pulled onto the dock, and Charlie parked next to Max's van.

"Ah, Dr. Fong, and Miss McGarrett, so nice that you could join us," Max said, peering up at them over the first body. "We have some very interesting body art on several of these victims. Commander McGarrett thought it might provide an opportunity for you to work it into the database."

"We have a long way to go to refine the search process," Charlie said, "and this will help. If you'll help position . . . so that we don't compromise your evidence - yes, perfect." Charlie started snapping photos as Max held an arm steady.

Steve jogged over to them.

"Hey," he said, tugging on Riley's braid. She was studying the ink, her head tilted in thought.

"I know this ink," she said. "This is Kkangpae. Korean."

"You're sure?" Steve asked.

"Positive," she said. "Shelburne taught me to recognize Yakuza, Triad, and Kkangpae."

Chin had joined them, and listened soberly. "Wait, the Kkangpae . . ."

"Were supposed to be protecting me while I was at the University," Riley said quietly. "Joe set it up."

Steve and Chin exchanged a loaded glance.

"Okay, well, the Korean organized crime rings are active in both the drug trade and in human trafficking, and their routes bring them through Honolulu. So we will investigate all angles of this," Steve said. "But we're not going to assume it's a coincidence, either."

"Joe is -" Riley broke off, not wanting to say too much. She looked at Steve, her eyes wide with alarm. "And now this; what if -"

"Riley," Steve said, putting his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Joe can take care of himself, okay? Now, we have no idea what these bodies are doing here, or even if they were killed here. We're going to let Max do his job, and we're going to get you and Charlie do to your magic with the database, and the trace evidence in the lab, and go from there."

Riley nodded. "Right," she said, taking a deep breath. "Got -"

She was interrupted mid-thought by the pinging of a bullet against the Medical Examiner van.

"Cover!" Steve yelled, grabbing Riley and pulling her behind Charlie's SUV, with Charlie right on their heels. Chin was hauling Max away from the body and toward Steve's position.

"Steve, your one o-clock!" Danny yelled. He and Kono had taken cover behind a shipping crate. "I don't have an angle here."

Steve popped up and took a shot at the figure leaping from one shipping crate to another, as more bullets whized over their heads.

"What is he shooting at?" Chin yelled, covering Steve.

"The bodies," Steve said grimly, as bullets impacted the body they'd just examined. "Destroying evidence?"

"That's my - we've got more company," Chin warned, as two more figures appeared on the shipping containers closer to Danny and Kono.

"Give me a back-up," Riley demanded. "I'll cover Charlie and Max. Go - Danny and Kono are going to get pinned down."

Steve hesitated for a split second, but he recognized the look of determination in Riley's eyes. He handed off an extra handgun and clip to her. "Move if you have to," he said hurriedly. "Don't get cornered. Chin and I will draw them off."

"Go, go," she said, "get Danny and Kono."

Chin and Steve slipped from behind the SUV to the next row of shipping containers, trying to get behind the shooters. Danny and Kono were holding their own, but barely, against the assailants who had the higher ground and better visibility.

"Steve, little help," Danny yelled.

Steve and Chin flanked the shooters. There was a blur of motion and sound, and then silence.

"Clear!" Chin yelled, checking the two bodies closest to him.

"Clear!" Steve repeated, kicking a gun away from the third body. "Riley, - you guys okay?"

"We're good," Riley yelled back.

"Kono, Danny!" Steve called out, "clear?"

"Danny's hit," Kono's voice was full of panic. "I didn't even see it happen, I -"

Steve and Chin broke into a dead run and got to them in seconds, with Max, Charlie, and Riley just a few steps behind.

Kono was kneeling over Danny, her hands pressed desperately against his shoulder, which was bleeding profusely. Blood poured from a graze over his eyebrow, soaking his hair and the ground beneath his head.

"I need an ambulance to Pier 3, Honolulu Harbor," Chin was barking into his cell phone. "Officer down."

"Allow me, Officer Kalakaua," Max said, as Steve shoved packets of military grade Quickclot at him. Max pressed expertly with gloved hands on Danny's wound, slipping the gauze under and applying pressure.

Danny groaned.

"Hey, partner," Steve said, relief and worry flitting across his face. "What did I tell you, hunh; what did I tell you - I told you not to get shot. Just ask Rebecca out on a date like a normal guy."

"Fun - ny" Danny gasped.

Steve put pressure on the cut above his eyebrow. "How's our boy, Max?" he asked.

"The wound is bleeding profusely," Max said cheerfully, "but I believe the bullet went through fatty tissue, and no organs. Detective Williams is lucky, all things considered."

"Don't - feel - lucky," Danny argued.

They could hear sirens in the distance, and Chin jogged around to wave down the ambulance. Kono took Danny's hand in her blood-covered, shaking grasp. "From now on, we wear vests to crime scenes," she said. "Okay?"

"Yeah - good - idea," Danny agreed.

Riley stood watching, horrified and silent, until Charlie noticed her trembling.

"Hey," he said, gently touching her shoulder. She jumped. "Danny's talking; that's a really good sign, yeah? And look, the ambulance is here. He's going to be okay." He carefully and cautiously took her hand in his, pleased when she held on tight.

"Max, Kono - go with Danny," Steve said. "As far as we know, the shooters were trying to destroy evidence, but Kono - I want you on Danny's door. Call HPD for a set of uniforms; I want him secure, got it?"

"Copy, Steve," Kono said firmly. She and Max worked with the paramedics to load Danny onto the gurney.

"Danny, you hang tight, partner," Steve said. "We'll be there as soon as we get this scene secure."

Steve thumped the back of the ambulance and it pulled away, lights flashing and sirens wailing, cutting through the quiet morning.

Steve turned back to the scene at hand, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Okay, we have three Kkangpae bodies," he said. "We show up to work the scene, and we get three shooters. How much you wanna bet it's Yakuza?"

"I'd take that bet," Chin said grimly. "But I'm not interested in working a crime scene in the open. I say we call HPD, get these bodies all back to the basement."

"Copy that," Steve said. "Call it in. We'll wait for HPD to get here, then head to the hospital."

"Hey, kid," Steve murmured, tucking his fingers under Riley's chin and tilting her face up to look at him. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Steve glanced down at her hand, still firmly wrapped in Charlie's. He raised an eyebrow at Charlie, who looked steadfastly back at him.

"Commander," Charlie said quietly, "would you like us to go back to the lab and start working on the evidence? Or perhaps Riley would rather be at the hospital with you?"

"I can do my job," Riley said quickly. "There are six bodies to process now."

"Riley, a close friend is injured," Charlie said. "And these bodies aren't going anywhere, except back to our basement. If you'd rather be with the team, it's perfectly fine with me."

"We know you're capable, Riley," Steve said. "But humor me, and stick close, okay? Charlie is right; the evidence will be there tomorrow."

"Okay," Riley nodded. "I'll get my backpack."

Charlie released her hand and she trotted back to the SUV.

"Dr. Fong," Steve said, crossing his arms and looking down at him slightly.

"Commander," Charlie said, swallowing hard, but standing his ground. "Riley was remarkably composed under fire, but she was quite distressed when she realized Danny was shot."

"How distressed," Steve said.

Chin watched the exchange with amusement.

"A bit shaky," Charlie said.

Steve grunted.

"Charlie, we were all focused on Danny; I'm sure Steve appreciates that you took a moment to look out for Riley," Chin said smoothly. "I hear HPD coming; let me go get them sorted."

Steve stared at Charlie for a moment, and then his mouth twitched in a hint of a smile.

"Good job, Charlie," he said quietly. "Will you keep us posted on anything you find?"

"Absolutely," Charlie said. "We'll start with ID, of course." He turned and headed toward the SUV. Riley was standing quietly, waiting, having realized that the doors were locked.

Chin smirked at Steve.

"What?" Steve demanded, hands on his hips.

"You can't decide if you hate him because he had the audacity to hold your sister's hand, or if you like him because he's not afraid of you," Chin said.

Steve grunted again.

"I'd go with the latter," Chin advised. "He's extremely good at his job. We couldn't close half our cases without him, you know."

"He's a little bit afraid of me," Steve said, watching Charlie open the door for Riley to get her bag. There were a few words exchanged, and another brief touch of hands. Steve sighed. "Which is why it's damn impressive that he didn't give an inch."

"She's not a child, Steve," Chin said. "You can't treat her like one. Family, yes. In potential danger, unfortunately. But not a child."

Steve looked at Chin. "Is that why you run full background checks and surveillance on every guy who asks Kono out?"

"Obviously."

#*#*#*#*#

"Rebecca?" the nurse manager called out, putting down the phone and catching Rebecca just before she got on the elevator.

"Did I forget a signature?" Rebecca asked, turning back.

"No, there's a call from Dr. Waincroft. Detective Williams was just brought in to the ER. She thought you would want to know."

"Thank you," Rebecca said, as she dashed back to the elevator.

The Emergency Department was noisy and chaotic; one of the reasons Rebecca honestly preferred Intensive Care. She knew how to read the floor, though, and she stood still, her eyes scanning for the most urgent cluster of activity. Judging from the sheer volume of both noise and personnel, she started moving toward Trauma 2. Sure enough, a slight bespectacled Asian man was steering Kono out of the room.

"Kono, how bad - oh my God," Rebecca breathed, looking at the blood all over Kono's hands and clothes.

"The volume of blood loss is the greatest concern," the man said cheerfully, "but the wounds themselves are not life-threatening."

"Rebecca, Dr. Max Bergman, our ME. He was on the scene. And somehow spotless," Kono said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"I am accustomed to maintaining a very clean environment," Max said. "And you are -"

"Rebecca," she said, shaking his extended hand. "I was -" She broke off, looking at Kono. It was a lot to explain. "I was Riley's nurse. Before."

"Rebecca helped Steve get Riley back," Kono said firmly.

"Ah, well we are thankful for you, then," Max said. "I suspect there is a great deal of evidence for me to process. I'll call HPD and ask for a ride back to my office."

"Thanks, Max," Kono said, kissing him on the cheek. He beamed as he headed toward the doors, phone in hand, lab coat fluttering behind him.

"Kono, let's get you cleaned up," Rebecca offered. "Where do -"

"The doctors let Five-O use the locker room," Kono said. "And scrubs. Malia says we scare the patients."

Rebecca laughed. "I can imagine."

"I'm fine," Kono said, "I know you want to be with Danny . . ."

"Right now, I'd just be in the way," Rebecca said. "So fussing over you will keep me occupied so I don't lose my mind. I'll find you some coffee."

Kono smiled at her. "Thanks, Rebecca. And they really do think Danny's going to be fine. Really."

Rebecca gave her arm a squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered. "Now. You're a wreck, girl. A walking biohazard. Go get sorted."

#*#*#*#*#

"Chin, what's the history of the Kkangpae on the island?" Steve asked, as they sped toward the hospital.

"There's been a few run-ins when they crossed paths with the Yakuza," Chin said. "But I'll admit, it's rare."

"You think they were here because of me?" Riley asked quietly. "Did I get Danny shot?"

"No," Steve said emphatically. "This is not your fault, Riley."

"You can't say that. It might be. I should . . . I could go back to the monastery, Steve. Really."

"Riley, this is a dangerous job," Chin said. "Law enforcement has been tangling with the Yakuza for generations on this island. We don't know anything, except that Danny needs his ohana right now. So that's what we're going to focus on."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey," Danny said, smiling up at Rebecca through a haze of painkillers.

"Danny, you almost landed yourself on my floor," Rebecca said, taking his hand carefully.

"Day's not over yet," he observed. "Still have surgery to look forward to."

"I'll be here when you get out," Rebecca said. "So, this sort of thing happen often? Kono knows her way around the doctor's locker room really well."

"You know, it's Steve's fault, really," Danny said. "Got me shot the first day I met him, it's been raining bullets since."

"Complain, complain, complain," Steve said quietly, coming into the room. "Hey, Rebecca."

"You animal, somehow this is your fault," Danny said. "Did you call Rachel?"

"I will; wanted to get information to tell her. You want her to bring Gracie?"

"No way," Danny said. "Tomorrow. Gracie tomorrow, when I'm not so -" he gestured absently.

"Okay, Danny," Steve said. "We're all here. See you when you get settled in a room, okay, partner?"

"Yeah, you'll be standing outside the OR door with an evidence bag, right?" Danny quipped.

"Of course. Thanks for catching one of the bullets, man," Steve said. The lines of worry on his face betrayed him, and his teasing words fooled no one.

"I'm fine, Steven," Danny said. "Looked worse than it was. Go, console the team."

Steve chuckled a bit and turned to leave the room, and Rebecca started to follow. Danny's hand tightened on hers.

"You; you can stay," he said, smiling at her.

#*#*#*#*#


	33. Rivals 2

"I spoke with the surgeon," Malia said, joining the team in the family waiting room. "Everything went as planned. The bullet grazed the scapula, and there were just the few fragments to be cleaned out. He'll be on IV antibiotics to prevent infection, but there's no reason to expect less than a full recovery." She pointed a finger at Steve. "Desk duty only until he's completely healed."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said meekly.

#*#*#*#*#

"What were you thinking?" Joe asked, glaring at the man in front of him. "I asked for protection for her in Tokyo; at the university. Your men failed. No one asked you to step in again. Their deaths are not on my hands."

"You need to bring her back to Tokyo," the man insisted. "The Kkangpae can protect her here. WoFat will not rest until he's exacted his revenge."

"Be that as it may," Joe said, "it is no longer your concern. Unless you want to bring WoFat's wrath down on your head as well, I would walk away."

"Or perhaps we should consider a different arrangement altogether," the man said. "I'm sure WoFat would be interested. There is a bounty, you know. We could decide that cash in hand is better than promises of future cooperation."

"And I'm sure that the United States Navy and the CIA would be interested in every aspect of your operation," Joe said quickly. "The entire program is disavowed. There is no one left who can offer you protection; offer you a deal. Don't escalate this."

The man scoffed. "Who's protecting her? The brother? His team of cops?"

"I'm telling you right now; walk away from this." Joe stood to his full, imposing height. "You lay a hand on her, and the military, the CIA, and WoFat will be the least of your concerns. 'The brother' will make them look like cub scouts."

#*#*#*#*#

They waited until Danny was settled in his room, and whispered their quiet goodbyes to him. He was groggy, and in pain, and blaming Steve.

"Are you sure you're okay to stay?" Steve asked Rebecca. "You get more nursing than you bargained for with my team."

Rebecca smiled and ducked her head slightly. "There's, um, not so much as a goldfish at my apartment, and I have several changes of scrubs in my locker. I'm fine with staying."

Steve grinned at her. "Lovely. You'll probably get to meet Rachel and Gracie. Good luck." With a jaunty grin, he was off.

"Oh crap," Rebecca muttered to herself, her hands on her hips, looking down at Danny. "I may not have thought this through."

#*#*#*#*#

They gathered around the smart table when they got back to the palace.

"So, why are the Kkangpae on the island, and why was the Yakuza so hell-bent on us not having those bodies?" Chin asked. They put what scanty information they had on the plasma.

"Max is going to go over the bodies with a fine-tooth comb," Charlie said, "and my team will go over every thread and breadcrumb in their pockets. Riley will be logging the evidence in the database and we'll cross reference it with every other Kkangpae case on record."

Riley had drifted closer to the plasma screens, and was studying the few shots they'd managed to get of the tattoos.

"What are you thinking, Riley?" Steve asked, coming to stand next to her.

Danny marveled at the uncanny similarities in their stance, the angle of their heads as they looked at the screens. He wondered, not for the first time, how they didn't know immediately that Riley was Steve's sister.

"What were the Yakuza shooting at, exactly? I mean, the bodies, but . . . the ink? Is it possible they were trying to obliterate the tattoos?" Riley wondered.

"So, three Kkangpae members make it to the island, wind up dead, on the docks. Five-O gets called and we get there before the Yakuza can collect the bodies. The ink. We were secondary targets," Chin picked up her train of thought.

"They were more interested in destroying the ink than getting rid of us?" Kono said. "Their chance to off Five-O and they're going after evidence instead. Wow."

"Well, they were outnumbered and out-gunned," Steve reasoned. "They had to know that once bullets started flying, they didn't stand a chance. So if their original objective had been to retrieve the bodies, the only thing left was to try to destroy the evidence."

"It was a suicide mission," Chin said.

"If you're right," Charlie said, "then what on earth is so special about those tattoos?"

#*#*#*#*#

Danny was aware of being watched as he drifted awake, sluggish, the strong narcotics still coursing through his system. His eyes blinked open slowly.

"Hi, Danno," a quiet voice said, close to his ear.

He turned his head. "Hey, Monkey," he rasped, his throat dry.

"Here, you can give your dad some of this ice," Rebecca said, handing Gracie a cup of ice and a spoon.

She nodded and carefully extended a spoonful of ice to Danny, her chocolate eyes wide and serious.

"Thanks, baby," Danny said. "It's good to see you. You okay? Everything okay? Where's your mom?"

"She went to argue with the doctor," Gracie said solemnly.

Danny sighed and Rebecca tried to smother a grin. Before Danny could ask any more questions, the door opened and Rachel stalked back in, chin up defiantly.

"Daniel, I do not understand why you persist in listing Steven as your emergency contact and medical proxy," she said, ignoring Rebecca completely. "One would think that the mother of your child should be notified first."

"One would be wrong," Danny said calmly. "We've been over this, Rachel. If I'm sick or injured, odds are good that it's on the job. Steve is likely on the scene, not to mention he's a hot shot SEAL medic. He's going to be the one who knows what happened, who can get to me the fastest, and who has the information to make a good decision."

"And then call me hours after the fact?" Rachel retorted hotly.

"If I'm coherent, he waits for my go-ahead to call you. He calls when I'm ready for him to call," Danny said. "And I'm ready for him to call when we have all of the information that can be conveyed to you in such a way as to not alarm our beautiful daughter, who may I remind you, is sitting. Right. Here." Danny kept his tone calm, but his eyes pinned Rachel with a glare, over Gracie's head.

"Fine. Gracie, darling, we will stay for a few more minutes, and then we'll need to get you home so you can tend to your homework," Rachel said. She turned and addressed Rebecca. "I'm sure you have other patients to attend to. And could you please bring me a coffee?"

Rebecca decided to take the insulting suggestion as a graceful exit from the room, but as she stood to leave, Danny spoke up.

"Actually, nurses don't fetch coffee. Besides, Rebecca is off duty. She's here as a friend," he said.

"I was Riley's nurse recently when she was injured, and had the honor of becoming friends with Danny's team," Rebecca said. "I was just coming off a shift and offered to stay so that they could get back to work."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Rebecca but didn't pursue the matter further. Danny turned his attention back to Gracie.

"Hey, Monkey, how are things at school this week?" he asked, tugging on one of her pigtails.

"Great!" she enthused. "We have a field trip tomorrow to an aquarium. There's a petting tank, and I'll get to touch a stingray. A baby one."

"That's fantastic, baby," Danny said. "Draw me a picture of it when you get home, okay?"

"Okay, Danno," Grace nodded. "When will you get to come home? Can I still come over this weekend?"

"I'm not sure, honey," Danny said. "We will see what the doctor says, and your mom and I will work it out, okay?"

"I can help," Gracie said. "If you can't do dishes and cook and stuff, I can help you."

"Well, that is good to know," Danny said, smiling. "Maybe they will let me go home, if they know I have a helper."

Gracie beamed at him and kissed him, gently, on the cheek.

"Come, Gracie, we need to let Danno rest now," Rachel said. Her tone was softer as she held out her hand to Grace. "Danny, I do hope you can get some rest. Shall I bring Gracie around tomorrow on the way home from school?"

Danny looked up at her, a bit surprised. "I would love that, Rachel, yes, of course."

"Well," she said, glancing down at Gracie, "I do try to be reasonable. I - I'm glad that you're okay, relatively speaking."

"Thanks," Danny said. He winced as he reached for the cup of ice, and Rachel handed it to him a bit awkwardly.

"Good night, Daniel," Rachel said, and Gracie blew him kisses as they walked out of the room.

"Thank you," Rebecca said quietly, as the door closed behind them. "You didn't need to . . . I would have gone to get her some coffee, really, it wouldn't have been a problem."

"Yeah, okay, if she had asked politely, maybe," Danny said. "Because you're a genuinely kind person, and you do know your way around the hospital. But that's not what happened there. She treated you like wait staff. I would have done the same for any nurse. I should have introduced you to her immediately. I apologize."

"Danny, there's no need . . . you're groggy, in pain, focused on your little girl . . . really. You don't owe me anything," Rebecca argued.

"I introduced you as a friend," Danny said.

"I like to think we're friends," Rebecca replied, smiling at him.

"I would like to think that we might be more than friends," Danny said. "But thank you for making things very easy with my ex-wife and my daughter. I have not yet told Rachel that I am seeing someone."

"We're seeing each other?" Rebecca asked.

"We are," Danny nodded. "Unless my showing up to walk you to your apartment and cook for you really was stalking, in which case, I know people who could look into that for you."

"I won't press charges," Rebecca said. "Your kid, Grace . . . she really is adorable."

"She looks like her mother."

"She has your winning personality. And kindness," Rebecca said. "I understand if . . . look, I get that your life is complicated, and I sort of dropped into things. I don't want you to feel obligated. You have been a great friend, Danny, all of you have. It's far more than I imagined, and if that's all this is - it's enough. I wasn't expecting it; I certainly don't expect more."

Danny was too tired and too loopy to filter his words - not that filtering was one of his strong points under any circumstances. "I fell for you, in the hospital," he said bluntly. "You impressed me, over the radio, the way you manhandled Steve and Riley through the woods . . . that was amazing. But I fell for you in the hospital, the way you treated Riley - your gentleness with her, your compassion. None of us understood better what she'd been through, and you stuck with her, you didn't walk away. And when you finally fell asleep, and you woke up, and I looked at you and . . . it was wow. All of that, and then you sat up, and opened those gorgeous eyes of yours, and I still can't decide if they're blue or green or what, and your hair was . . . " Danny paused and made a vague gesture with his hands, and Rebecca had to laugh.

"And you gave me a hair elastic from this mysterious stash you seem to keep in your pockets, because my hair had its own zip code going on," she finished. "I confess, I had a fleeting thought, when you pulled out that elastic, that maybe -"

"What?" Danny asked, his eyes crinkling at her.

Rebecca blushed and made a dismissive gesture. "You'd braided Riley's hair, and for a split second, I . . ."

"Rebecca," Danny said, a slow, soft smile curving his lips and crinkling his eyes, "I would very much like to think that a day will come when I have the liberty to run my hands through your hair."

"Oh," Rebecca said softly. "Wow."

"In the meantime, you know you can always count on me for a spare elasticy thing."

#*#*#*#*#

"You sure you're okay with this?" Steve asked quietly, as they stepped off the elevator in the basement.

"I am," Riley said confidently.

"I'm going to grab a light and the best camera from the lab," Charlie said. "I'll catch up to you."

Steve and Riley continued into Max's autopsy room.

"Greetings, Commander, Ms. McGarrett," Max said formally. "I am glad to see the excitement for the day is over. How is Detective Williams?"

"He's going to be riding a desk for a while, but he'll be okay," Steve said. "What have you got?"

"Cause of death is unknown," Max said placidly. "These gunshots, as we know, were postmortem."

"What do you mean, unknown?" Charlie asked, frowning, as he joined them.

"I mean, Dr. Fong, that I do not yet know what caused these three gentlemen to succumb to an untimely death," Max said. "I am running a toxicology screen as we speak."

"Poison?" Riley asked.

"It would seem that in the absence of an obvious fatal wound, that could be a possibility," Max said, "although I haven't hit upon any specific evidence to indicate poisoning."

"We wanted to let Riley get a better look at the ink," Steve said. "Is that okay?"

"That would be fine," Max said. "I'll just be in my office if you need me."

Steve carefully pulled back the sheet from just the arm of the first victim, watching Riley for any evidence of discomfort. She was completely focused on the ink as she reached out her hand, stopping herself before she touched the skin.

"I should be wearing gloves," she said, "right?"

"Yep," Charlie replied, fishing a pair out of his pocket for her. Steve felt a blip of annoyance.

Riley gently rotated the man's arm, examining the ink. "Is that a UV lamp?" she asked Charlie.

"Yeah, it is," he said. "You want it on?"

"Hmm, could you direct it just over - there, perfect, thanks," Riley murmured. She was completely focused as she bent over the table. "Holy shit," she said quietly.

"What is it?" Steve demanded.

"This is Kkangpae ink," she said, "but underneath it, there's an original, smaller tattoo. I recognize it."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, curious. "From where?"

"The monastery," Riley said.

"The - that doesn't make sense," Steve said.

Charlie looked at them in confusion, but wisely stayed silent.

"Riley, that doesn't make sense," Steve repeated. "Right? This guy was a monk, before he was Kkangpae?"

"It isn't unheard of," Riley sighed. "It's just very, very unfortunate."

#*#*#*#*#


	34. Dark Web 1

A/N: A really short chapter to introduce the next storyline . . . more soon!

#*#*#*#*#

There were balloons and malasadas on Danny's desk when he returned to work two weeks after the shooting on the docks.

"I'm saying, I rarely got to drive my own car, even before you got me shot. Again," Danny said, as he and Steve stepped off the elevator.

"How was you getting shot my fault?" Steve demanded.

"It just was," Danny said.

"I told you, ask Rebecca out on a date," Steve said, grinning. "Specifically, I remember saying, 'Don't get shot so that you can spend time with the pretty nurse'. But did you listen? No."

Danny opened his mouth to argue more, and then stopped. "Worth it," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, sure - wait, what? Really?" Steve asked.

"Steve, you might have to share that Smooth Dog nickname," Kono teased, coming out of her office to give Danny a gentle hug. "Welcome back, Danny."

Chin joined them, shaking Danny's hand. "We are glad to see you. It's not the same, sharing files over a laptop."

Danny gestured to the room at large. "What's going on? What's this I hear about the bodies from the dock being declared a cold case?"

"Happened this morning," Steve sighed. "Direct order from the governor. We don't have any more solid leads, and we've hit dead ends with everything we do have. He flat out turned down my request to fly Riley to the monastery to interview the monks; and threatened to suspend all of you without pay if I took any personal leave."

"He's picked up quickly," Chin commented.

"So we are left with the theory that these guys were either acting under Joe's previous arrangement as Kkangpae, to try to protect Riley, or that there's a brewing gang war with the Yakuza and the Kkangpae?" Danny asked.

"Those are the two most plausible scenarios," Steve said. "If it weren't for the monastery ink, you could convince me that it's not related to Riley. But with that . . . "

"Yeah, I can't see how that's a coincidence," Danny said. "So why this morning?"

"New case," Steve said, turning to the smart table. "We have two tourists who woke up this morning without kidneys."

"That does not sound like a good part of a spa package," Danny said.

#*#*#*#*#

"We are sincerely sorry for what has happened," Steve said, sitting beside the bed of a young woman. She was pale, her dark hair and eyelashes accentuating the pallor of her skin as she sat, propped awkwardly by pillows, in the hospital bed. "We're going to do everything we possibly can to find who is responsible for this."

"There was another person," she said. "I think . . . I thought I could hear another person."

"You did," Danny said. "They are also in the hospital. Did you know each other, meet each other at any point?" He held out his phone, displaying a picture of the other victim.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He doesn't look familiar at all."

"Our people are checking to see if your paths crossed; maybe you stayed at the same hotel, came in on the same flight . . . if something does come to mind, though, will you let us know?" Steve asked. Danny handed her a card. They'd discovered that victims seemed to call more often when the card read Detective Williams as opposed to Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett.

"I will," she said.

"And in the meantime, we are going to keep an officer outside your room, twenty-four seven," Danny assured her. "We have no reason to think that whoever did this is going to come back, but we want you to feel safe."

"Thank you. Are you okay?" she added, gesturing to Danny's sling.

"Unrelated injury," Danny said. "I'm fine, thank you."

They headed for the elevator. "Nothing to add to the first witness," Steve sighed. "No memory of being taken, only vague impressions of what was happening, unconscious when they were found . . . absolutely nothing to go on."

"Bad for the case, better for the victims," Danny observed. "Can you imagine, knowing that was happening to you?"

"True," Steve nodded. "Denning is already all over us on this - getting abducted and having organs removed really doesn't read well on the travel brochures."

"Well, maybe Chin and Kono will have some leads," Danny offered optimistically.

#*#*#*#*#

"If this were a Venn diagram, the circles would be on opposite sides of the room," Kono sighed. "Nothing in common. Absolutely nothing."

"Well, except for being found in alleys, unconscious, missing an organ," Danny pointed out. "CCTV, security, anything from those locations?"

"Nothing," Chin said. "Whoever dumped the bodies definitely did their homework. These are barely more than kiosks; so, no security to speak of."

"Tourists, dumped in a tourist shopping area . . ." Steve mused.

"Yeah, are you thinking local?" Chin asked. "Knows the area intimately enough to know that there's no security, maybe has a beef with tourists - choosing them as victims, making a statement by dumping the bodies in a place that caters to tourists?"

"It would make sense," Steve said. "So, maybe selling the organs to make crime pay, but choosing the victims to make a more personal statement?"

"There's a terrifying logic to it," Danny said. "If we can't get any leads from the victims, what about the organs?"

Steve nodded. "Let's go talk to Max."

#*#*#*#*#

"Based on the surgeon's report," Max said, as they stood in his small office, "the kidneys were removed with a great deal of skill. Minimal blood loss, minimal scarring. The patients are expected to make a full recovery."

"But with one kidney," Danny said, grimacing.

"True. As long as they don't suffer a traumatic injury or develop kidney disease, they should be fine," Max amended. "You know, in some countries, people are allowed to choose to sell their organs."

"Their body, their choice," Kono murmured. "Seems a bit extreme, but logical."

"We know there's a market for organs," Steve said. "There were rumors, when I was in Naval Intel, of arms traffickers dabbling in human and organ trafficking."

"Organ brokers," Charlie Fong said grimly, as he knocked on the open door of Max's office. "Sadly, becoming more common in impoverished Asian communities. The Philippines, for example."

"Someone looking to expand the market?" Steve asked, crossing his arms. "How do we find out?"

"We search for buyers," Charlie suggested.

"Let's assume those kidneys went somewhere," Steve said. "If the person who took the organs didn't leave a trace, maybe the person who brokered the deal did."

"Or the person who is now using the kidneys," Chin offered, with a shudder.

"It's assuming the kidneys were taken deliberately, not as a diversion," Danny said. "Get us chasing our tails after an organ selling ring, when really it's just a hate crime?"

"That's a fair question," Steve nodded. "But if the kidneys were really removed with such care, I think we need to operate on the assumption that they've been transplanted. Otherwise, why would our perp take so much time and effort?"

"So, no one is going to take out an advertisement in the local Craigslist for buying and selling human organs," Kono said. "Where do we start looking?"

Charlie glanced at Steve. "I have an idea, but I'm not sure you're going to like it."


	35. Dark Web 2

A/N: I apologize for the delay. Real life is full of more drama than my fanfiction right now, and it's seriously cramping my writing style. Thank you for your patience - it might not hurt to back up and read the previous chapter (again, apologies). Please know that I am *not* going to abandon this story - and finals will be over in a week. :-)

#*#*#*#*#

"You're right, Charlie - I don't like the idea," Steve said. "But I have to admit it's probably the best approach."

"The dark what?" Kono asked, looking between Charlie and Steve in confusion.

"The dark web," Charlie explained. "The internet with no rules, no restrictions, no accountability."

"It's like a Craigslist, actually, for the worst scum of the earth," Danny said. "We busted up a child pornography ring in Jersey thanks to some wanna be hacker slipping up using the dark web, and our guys were able to trace a lead."

"We don't really cover it in the academy," Chin explained, nodding at Kono. "Officers that work their way up through the ranks and have exceptional computer skills are sent for training with the FBI. But HPD is a relatively small force; it's just not something we do much on the local level."

"That's true of most locations," Charlie said. "But Five-O has something HPD doesn't have." He looked at Riley.

"Wait," Steve said, turning to face Charlie, his hands moving to his hips. "Riley? You want Riley to trawl the dark web? Oh , yeah, that part I definitely don't like."

"Steve, do you think I was using Yahoo to create the false identity trail for Joe?" Riley asked. "Sorry to dispel this aura of innocence you seem to see around me, big brother, but I know my way around the dark web already. I'm the absolute logical choice for this. Not that the database isn't going to be useful, but please - let me do something meaningful here."

Steve studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. But I have to get the appropriate clearance from the state district attorney before you start." He shot a glare at Charlie. "I'll let you know when we're cleared."

"Understood," Charlie said.

Riley bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "Thanks," she said cheerfully. "Can I get Jerry to help?"

"No." "No." "No." Steve, Chin, and Danny spoke emphatically in unison while Kono stifled a giggle.

"Not with this one, Riley," Steve said, a hint of a smile playing on his face. "Now, go, back to your lair, before I change my mind."

"It's more like a cave," Riley replied absently, her mind already analyzing the task at hand. She caught up to Charlie as he stepped onto the elevator, and they could hear animated discussion as the doors closed.

Chin clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Look at it this way, brah. At least this way you know what she's up to; you can keep tabs on her. To a point."

"I'm glad she's on our side," Danny observed.

"The women in my family . . . " Steve muttered, as he walked to his office. "Okay, keep at it. I'm going to get clearance for my baby sister to drop into the sewer of the universe and look for the person selling human kidneys."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley spent the afternoon pouring over the finer points of black market organ trafficking with Max. At the end of the day, Steve knocked quietly on the door to Max's office.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, leaning in the doorway.

"Things are going well, Commander," Max said. "Riley is a quick study. She's picking up the vocabulary."

"I have to be ready in case I end up in a real time chat with someone," Riley explained, "so I can hold my own until Max can get to me to help me."

"You should consider a course in anatomy and physiology," Max suggested, "as an elective. You seem to have a knack for it."

"Okay," Riley said, shrugging.

"You gonna be able to handle this?" Steve asked, as they climbed in the truck to head for home.

"Yeah, I can," Riley answered. "You know how it works - I have to go in very slowly, and very quietly, or I'll raise suspicion. That will give me time to pick up on phraseology, unspoken rules . . . "

"Sounds like tracking illegal weapons transactions."

"Desperate people buying something that isn't legal to buy," Riley said. "Probably a lot of similarities." She hesitated. "How much trouble will they be in?"

"Who?"

"The people who have the wrong kidneys," she said quietly. "Maybe they don't know where the kidneys came from."

Steve sighed. "Riley, if these kidneys were transplanted into someone, it wasn't done in a hospital. They have to know something."

"Maybe they were told that it was a clinic or something," she insisted. "Maybe their mom, or dad, or sister, or whoever, was told that the kidneys were donated, like, a living donation or something. So, how much trouble will they be int? Will you take the kidneys away?"

"Will I - Riley, no, we are not going to -" Steve stopped. He actually had no idea what the hell the rules were for something like this. "I seriously doubt that anyone is going to be forced to give up an organ. That would be pointless."

"Hmm. Okay."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. This sort of thing didn't happen when he was in the teams. It just didn't.

#*#*#*#*#

"This smells amazing, Danny," Rebecca said, sighing appreciatively as Danny welcomed her into his apartment. "But, after a twelve hour shift with a nauseated patient, I do not smell amazing. Well, I might. But not in a good way." She held up a small gym bag. "Could I grab a quick shower before dinner? I think I have halfway decent street clothes in here."

Danny tilted his head at her. She looked as beautiful as she always did, but obviously exhausted. He had an idea.

"What else do you have in the gym bag?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Um, yoga pants and a tshirt from a team building exercise at the hospital. Apparently, 'Care Begins with Me'. Why do you ask?" she replied.

"You look exhausted, you should skip the street clothes and go with the yoga pants," Danny said.

"Tempting, but . . . you made such a nice meal, I feel like -"

Danny held up a finger. "We started a new case today, and I'm beat. If it'll make you feel better, I'll gladly swap out for basketball shorts. I promise, the food will taste just as great. We don't need to impress the lasagna."

Rebecca laughed as she headed toward the bathroom. "Maybe it wasn't the lasagna I was hoping to impress," she called back over her shoulder.

Danny grinned. "Why do you think lasagna was on the menu tonight? I don't make this for just anyone. Go. Take your time, the flavor improves as it rests."

He opened a bottle of wine to breathe, and then went to his bedroom to grab shorts and a t-shirt. If he happened to choose the t-shirt that Kono had mentioned made his eyes look the bluest and his biceps look impressive - well. It could be argued that it was on the top of the drawer. He was back in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the salad when Rebecca came back in, her hair in damp waves around her face, and smelling deliciously of some sort of exotic shower gel.

"Smells wonderful," she said, inhaling deeply.

"Indeed," Danny said, smiling at her. "Feel better?"

"Like a new person," she declared, sliding into the chair that Danny held for her. "Thank you."

They chatted comfortably through dinner.

"I understand your new case may intersect with my job," Rebecca said. She held up a hand as Danny started to stammer through an explanation. "I know, you can't talk about it, and obviously, I didn't hear it from you. Word travels fast."

"It's . . . disturbing," Danny said carefully.

"It is," she agreed. "And we have been instructed to report anything unusual to Five-O. I assumed that order came from your team?"

Danny nodded. "Most likely Chin placed those class right away. We're . . . working several angles. I hope we catch a lead soon."

"And the case - the one that got you shot, on the docks? Any leads?"

"Ah, clues. Mysterious clues. And leads. Which all led to dead ends. The governor made it clear in no uncertain terms that we were to cease and desist, and focus on the case at hand. There's bad for Five-O, and then there's bad for tourism, and . . ." he shrugged.

"Ouch. Politics," she said.

"Well, I imagine there are times in your job where you have to . . . prioritize. You know, save who you can," Danny said philosophically.

"Triage," Rebecca supplied. "The most seriously injured get treated first, the minor injuries wait, the mortal wounds . . ."

"Yeah. Let's not carry the analogy too far, then, because I hate to think of Steve and Riley's situation as a mortal wound," Danny grimaced.

"Agreed. Bad analogy, what do I know?" Rebecca said. "That case is . . . in hibernation," she declared. "Not triage."

Danny clinked his glass against hers in a toast. "More?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

She hesitated. "I've had a generous glass already, and I should probably be leaving soon . . . "

"Or you could have another glass, and stay," Danny said quietly.

Rebecca stared at him, wide eyed.

Danny smiled at her. "You're exhausted, and, as you said, you've had a generous glass of wine. Isn't that a recipe for falling asleep behind the wheel? I'm offering an opportunity to relax, and crash - safely. Nothing more. If you haven't noticed, sleeping at each other's homes on a moment's notice, at the end of a long day, or when someone's been hurt - it's more the rule than the exception. And, you may not be part of the Five-O team, but you're definitely part of the family. It's an invitation to enjoy the rest of the evening, and sleep here instead of driving. Zero pressure. I can make a fantastic cup of espresso if you'd rather crash at your place."

"Well, I don't have to work tomorrow, so . . . okay. Yeah, I'll take you up on the second glass of wine, and the sofa," Rebecca said, smiling back at Danny. "As long as it won't cause any problems with your ex," she added.

"Rebecca," Danny said, covering her hand with his, "she's remarried. I'm allowed to see people. That is, you know, the normal course of things. Now, the really, really important question remains."

"Yes?" she asked, her heart picking up a beat.

"You've had a long day and I'm still somewhat recovering from a gunshot wound. What's your opinion on watching a movie and eating ice cream out of the carton? Appropriate date night activity, or not?"

"Perfect," Rebecca sighed. "Perfectly appropriate. One condition."

"If you say we have to watch anything with French subtitles, I may weep," Danny warned her.

Rebecca laughed. "No, my one condition is no sappy medical dramas. I ruin it for everyone concerned by critiquing the actors' surgical technique and medical vocabulary."

Danny nodded sagely. "Movies involving police investigations are also off the table, for the same reasons. So, we have action or romantic comedy."

"Chick flicks? No thanks," Rebecca said, wrinkling her nose.

"Action," Danny said decisively, as he put their plates in the sink. "Explosions -" he paused, tilting his head at Rebecca, "but no gore."

She picked up their wine glasses and padded into his cozy living room. "Completely unrealistic action adventure. Probably my favorite genre." She settled into the sofa while he grabbed the remote and a soft throw from the back of the chair.

"This is a relief," he said, sinking into the sofa next to her, and pulling up the movie menu on the TV. "I can't keep up the pace of our real life action and adventure indefinitely. Escaping bunkers, getting shot on the docks, dramatic hospital situations . . . sometimes, people just need to sit on the sofa, you know what I'm saying? Hmmm . . . Jack Reacher or Jason Bourne?"

"Reacher, even though the movies pale in comparison to the books," she said.

Danny started the movie and tossed the remote next to him. He held up an edge of the throw and raised his eyebrows. "For some reason, the combination of AC and fatigue - you chilly?"

"In other words, you're being a gentleman and asking, not assuming, if I'd like to snuggle under a blanket with you?" Rebecca asked.

"Exactly," Danny said, "though I'm cautiously optimistic."

"Oh, Danny," Rebecca laughed. "Your optimism is warranted."

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes crinkling in a smile as he tossed the fuzzy blanket over their laps. Rebecca handed him his wine glass.

He took a sip as Rebecca snuggled next to him, the opening sequence of the movie just starting. His arm slipped around her shoulders easily, his fingers toying gently with her hair.

"I mean, I've showered here, I'm sleeping here," Rebecca said, matter of factly, her eyes on the screen. "I'm trying to be a lady, and not assume, but I was cautiously optimistic that you'd at least go for first base."

He choked on the wine.

"Careful there, Five-O," Rebecca said, smirking as she took a sip of her own wine. "I can't Heimlich liquids."

#*#*#*#*#

"We should divide chores," Riley said decisively, as she helped Steve clear the table after their simple meal of stir-fry. Steve was amused that tofu was her idea of comfort food, but he had no complaints.

"Chores?" he asked, smiling.

"I'm not going to be a burden," she said. "You've been . . . coddling me. I need to carry my weight. So, what chores do you not like to do? Sweeping, dusting, dishes . . . what?"

"I'm used to just doing it myself," Steve said, shrugging. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "You can definitely do your own laundry. That's a good start. 'Cause, you probably don't . . . I mean, Mary didn't want me messing with her, you know. Girl clothes. Stuff."

"We could go with the term 'underwear', if you're that squeamish," Riley suggested. "You have a girlfriend."

"I know," Steve said, "but that's different. She's . . . not my sister."

Riley studied him. "I overheard Mary telling Rebecca that you were almost completely clueless about women and that I was practically a nun, and that she was genuinely worried about us on several levels. Is this what she meant?"

"Probably," Steve agreed. "So, you'll do your own laundry?" he added anxiously.

"Sure," Riley said. "You'll have to show me how to operate the American machines."

He stared at her blankly, trying to reconcile her request with what he'd seen of her deftly rolling out a keyboard and disabling the security system of an entire building.

"I wasn't raised by wolves, Steve," she said patiently, "but I was raised in another country. We had different voltage and everything. At the monastery, I washed clothes in the river. I have gaps."

#*#*#*#*#

"Good morning, Danny," Kono said absently, glancing up from the smart table. "Wait."

Danny pretended to ignore her and waved as he headed purposefully toward his office. But her legs were longer, and she was not to be deterred. Sidestepping neatly into his path, she blocked his progress.

"Well, good _morning_ , Danny," she purred. "Spill."

"I - there's - how?" Danny sputtered, looking at Chin for help.

Chin was useless. He shrugged and sipped his tea calmly as he pulled up files. Steve poked a curious head out of his office.

"What's going on with Kono and Danny?" he asked Chin.

"Standing right here," Danny said, incredulous.

"Okay, what's going on with you and Kono?" Steve asked.

"Danny has extra swagger this morning," Kono announced. "He was just about to tell me why."

"I don't have - Kalakaua, you are a menace," Danny protested. "There's nothing to tell."

Kono leaned forward and sniffed.

"You're sniffing me," Danny said. "Why are you sniffing me?"

"Burnt brown sugar body wash and . . . " she sniffed again, "probably lotion, too, or it wouldn't have transferred."

"Oh. Is that what that is?" Danny asked absently. "Burnt brown sugar. Hunh. Is that unusual?"

"No, it's ubiquitous, every drug store and mass market has a version - wait," Kono said, "don't distract me. It's clearly not yours, not that there'd be anything wrong with that."

Steve glanced at Chin again, and got another zen-like shrug. He looked expectantly back to Danny.

"Et tu, Brutus?" Danny sighed. "Okay. Geez. I was with Rebecca this morning. Happy?"

"You were with Rebecca this morning, and you made it to work at -" Kono glanced at the clock, "seven-thirty am, and you smell like her lotion. Well, _good_ morning, Danny. Way to go, stud."

"It's - look. We had dinner plans, she just came off her third twelve hour shift in a row, we had a second glass of wine, she crashed at my place," Danny said. "There was no . . . studding."

"You don't have a guest room. Bed or sofa?" Kono demanded. Steve watched the exchange with shameless curiousity while Chin, bless him, valiantly pretending to ignore it.

"I was going to insist that she take the bed," Danny said, "but she fell so sound asleep on the sofa I didn't have the heart to try to get her to move."

Kono studied him for a moment, then lit up with a brilliant smile, and Danny felt inexplicably relieved. Not that Kono's approval of his courtship mattered to him. Not at all.

"Good move," she said, slapping him on he shoulder. "If I was that tired, I would have punched you in the balls if you'd woken me up."

"Good to know," Danny said, taking a hasty step away from Kono.

"Now that we've established that Rebecca's virtue is safe with Danny, can we please get back to the case?" Steve asked.

"Well, I hope it's not _too_ safe . . ." Kono muttered, sauntering back to the table.

#*#*#*#*#

By the end of the day, they had a few leads to track down, and thankfully, no new victims reported. Steve called the governor with an update and headed down to check on Riley's progress. She was sitting at her low desk, with Max looking inexplicably comfortable next to her.

"Ah, Commander McGarrett," Max said, looking up as Steve stepped into the office. "We are, I believe, making some progress."

"That's great, Max, what have you got?" Steve asked. He folded himself down crosslegged on the floor on the other side of the desk.

"Riley has found a trail of discussion on selling blood and plasma to make extra money," Max said. "There are, of course, many legitimate organizations which provide such service. Those would not deal on the dark web."

"But there are some organizations which are - not legitimate?" Steve asked.

"Indeed," Max said. "Illicit plastic surgery, for example, requires blood transfusion. Underground clinics which treat injuries sustained in illegal behavior."

"They pay much more for blood and plasma," Riley said, her fingers flying over the keys. "I'll have IP addresses and locations in a moment, if you want to take them down, you know. After."

"If someone is getting an organ transplant outside the legitimate medical community, they would need blood," Steve said, rubbing his face. This case was becoming exponentially more complicated. "Good thinking. Really, really good thinking."

"I've dropped a hint that I might need more money than I could get selling blood or plasma," Riley said. "We'll see if I get any offers for a kidney. It could work." She finished a string of commands and then stopped, rubbing her face in a gesture identical to Steve's.

"That's all we can do for today, I think," Max said, in a moment of uncharacteristic perception.

"You do look worn out, Riley," Steve said, concerned.

"I'm okay, it's just . . ." she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It's . . . slimy. The dark web."

Steve stood up, and then pulled Riley up. He slung an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. "How about swimming?" he suggested. "You're supposed to be strengthening that knee, and maybe the Pacific Ocean will wash off the slime."

"Sounds great," Riley said. "And maybe . . . could we go visit Jerry? I won't talk to him about the case," she added quickly.

"Yeah, we'll stop and see Jerry on the way home," Steve said. "Thanks, Max, for helping."

"My pleasure, Commander," Max said, trailing happily after them. "And please extend my continued get well wishes to Jerry."

#*#*#*#*#

"Riley!" Jerry exclaimed, delighted, as Riley and Steve came into his tidy room at the rehabilitation hospital.

"Hey, Jerry," Riley said, giving him a careful hug.

Steve settled for a warm handshake. "Jerry, how's it going?"

"Well, I was able to use a walker today," Jerry said. "So that's definite progress. I should be able to go home in a week. My mom is fixing up a room on the first floor for me."

"That's great, Jerry. What can the team do to help? Make sure your mom calls us, okay? We don't need her moving furniture and getting hurt," Steve said.

"Okay, sure," Jerry agreed. "So, what's new?"

"Still working on the database," Riley said, "And a new case, but it's not one I can talk about."

"And you, how are you feeling?" Jerry asked.

"I'm doing great," Riley assured him. "I won't stay too long this evening, because I need to go home and swim. Still trying to get my knee back to normal. But I'll come back as soon as I can. What are we playing?"

Steve absently listened to their animated discussion of the latest multi-player game while he checked messages on his phone. He smiled.

 _Hey, sailor. Leave this weekend. Visit?_

Bless her, she knew that neither of them could really predict what the weekend would hold, but it was a nice thought. A very nice thought. His fingers moved quickly over the phone.

 _Ongoing case, but plan on it. Dinner?_ He smirked as he typed out the message. The fact that they rarely made it out to dinner was an ongoing joke between them.

 _Sure._

He could almost hear the eye-roll and chuckled, then realized, belatedly, that both Jerry and Riley were smiling at him.

"Catherine?" Riley guessed.

He pocketed his phone. "Um, yeah, actually," he said, nodding. "She has leave this weekend."

"Nice," Riley said, grinning at him.

"Brat," Steve said, poking her affectionately. "Jerry, I hate to cut the visit short, but if Riley is going to get some time in the water, we better get going. Take care, and I mean it - whatever Five-O can do to help, you let us know, yeah?"

#*#*#*#*#

Riley was exhausted by the time the sun's rays turned the McGarrett residence into a kaleidoscope of orange and pink.

"You're improving," Steve encouraged her, handing her a towel. "Your stroke is getting stronger, more even."

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely. How's the knee feel?"

"Like . . . that quivery food they gave me at the hospital."

"Jello?"

"Yeah, like that. But it doesn't hurt," she added.

"That's perfect then. You've worked the muscle to the point of exhaustion, but not to the point of strain. Now, it will heal, and strengthen," Steve said.

"So, you've had to do this before? After an injury?" Riley asked, as she rubbed her hair with the worn towel.

"Yeah. Plenty of times. Not all of us had nanobytes to put us back together," he teased.

"Do you think that's why Shelburne never took me to the doctor?"

Steve was momentarily taken aback by the question and stared at her.

"And Frank and Joe," she continued, musing aloud. "I got plenty hurt during training. Joe patched me up, never seemed too concerned. I guess Shelburne and Joe knew about the nanobytes. And I healed really, really fast. I mean, I didn't know it at the time. But now I know, I healed way faster than normal. So, you think that's why? Or do you think they were afraid someone would figure it out?"

"I would like to think they expected that you'd heal quickly and easily," Steve said. His face darkened, thinking of the possibility of a young, sick or injured Riley, not being taken for medical care.

"Hey," she said, tugging on his hand. "It's okay. I'm okay."

He nodded, and wrapped his long arms around her in a quick hug. "I know," he said, resting his chin on top of her head. "But I still wish . . . I'm sorry. I wish I'd known."

"But you didn't," she said. "You do now. And I have a family, and a job, and a home . . . friends . . . absolutely everything I need. Well, except for one thing."

"Name it," Steve said, earnestly, ready to pull the moon from the sky if he could.

"Dinner," she said, wriggling out of his grasp, laughing. "I'm starving."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was pouring over the notes from the victim interviews when the call came in the next morning. He grabbed his phone, hoping against hope that it wasn't what he feared.

"Duke, yeah, what have you got?" he asked.

"Steve, sorry to say it, but we have another victim. Found just moments ago outside a coffee shop in Waikiki Village. The owner went in to open up, the victim was literally on the doorstep. They were taken to Queens," Duke said. "Initial EMT report said it looked like surgical trauma to the lower back."

"Right where you'd take out a kidney," Steve sighed. "Thanks, Duke, I'll get people over there right away. Victim male or female?"

"Female," Duke said. "Young, probably late teens, early twenties."

"Okay, thanks," Steve said. "I'll send Kono and Danny."

"Good idea," Duke agreed. "They have a soft touch."

Steve rubbed his face as he ended the call. He was swearing softly as Danny came into his office.

"Hey, what's happening?" Danny asked, propping a hip on Steve's desk.

"You have ESP or something, Danny?" Steve asked, smiling tiredly.

"Nah, just finely tuned McGarrett radar, and you look like you'd like to shoot something. Ergo, it's in my best interest to know what's up," Danny retorted.

"Another victim," Steve said. "Young, female - would you and Kono go to Queens? See if you can get anything."

"Yeah, sure," Danny said. "Why me and Kono?"

Steve shrugged. "You have the dad thing going for you, Kono is also young and female. This poor girl is going to regain consciousness, alone, in a strange place, in pain. I just don't want to traumatize her further."

"Yeah, seeing your mug when I came to would do that," Danny said, smiling. "I'll grab the rookie and head over. Keep you posted."

"Thanks," Steve said, turning back to the files in front of him. He read a little bit more, then stopped, sighing. He picked up his phone again. "Yeah, Charlie? How's it coming with the investigation? We have another victim."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve, Chin, Charlie, and Riley were gathered around the smart table when Danny and Kono returned from the victim interview.

"Hey, guys," Kono said, "what's happening?"

"Well, we think Riley got a nibble," Steve said. "Were you able to talk to the victim?"

"A little," Danny said. "She was pretty groggy. Doctors expect a full recovery, so that's the good news. She did report one unusual thing that we think might be significant. She said that she signed up for a helicopter tour, and on the paperwork, she was required to put down her blood type - in case of a medical emergency. She thought it was odd, because she's done tours in other places, like the Grand Canyon, that didn't ask for the information."

Steve frowned. It wasn't standard protocol, as far as he knew.

"And, when she said that she wasn't sure of her blood type," Kono continued, "they offered to check it for her, on the spot."

"Wait, that can happen?" Chin asked.

"Yeah, it's a simple finger stick, almost instant results with a test strip," Charlie said, nodding. "Like a blood sugar reading."

"But I've never heard of helicopter tours doing that," Chin said.

"No, there really would be no need," Charlie said. "In the event of a medical emergency, the hospital is going to check anyway, even if it's written down. An error could be potentially fatal; they aren't going to count on a piece of paper."

"But a blood type would be a starting point to match a kidney, I'm guessing," Steve said.

"It would," Charlie nodded. "It's the primary criteria."

"Now," Kono said, her fingers flying over the smart table. "I'm assuming that when I search for this helicopter tour, nothing is going to show up, but at least it's a start."

"What did you get, Riley?" Danny asked.

"I've been lurking around on forums for the exchange of information on where to sell your blood and plasma," Riley explained, her fingers also moving over the table. "Not legit places, which usually set up near college campuses, but places where you can get more money. And someone dropped a hint that if I really needed serious cash, they might have another idea for me."

"Good start," Steve said. "So what did they suggest?"

"A meeting," Riley said. "At an internet cafe. I guess they figure anyone computer savvy enough to navigate the dark web would feel at home there."

"I had Riley agree to a meeting," Charlie said. "I got the vibe that if she didn't, this person would disappear. It's set for tomorrow morning."

"No way is Riley going to meet up with some potential organ broker," Steve said immediately. "Her job was intel only."

"I can go," Kono suggested quickly. "They'd be expecting a young female, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah," Riley said. "Beyond that, no description."

"That would work, then," Steve agreed. "But you go in wired, and we'll be in a surveillance van outside."

"I'll need to be able to feed Kono information," Riley said. "This guy is expecting a hacker. If he's suspicious, that's what he's going to ask about."

"I'm good with that," Steve said, nodding. "Charlie, we need a way for Kono to get a picture of this guy, so we can take it back to this most recent victim. If we're on to something, maybe she will recognize a face."

"I have just the idea," Charlie said, grinning broadly. "Riley, want to give me a hand with tech?"

Danny watched them as they headed for the elevator, talking animatedly as the doors closed behind them. He smiled softly.

"No way," Steve groused. "So help me, Danny, if the next words out of your mouth are any variation of 'cute' or 'together', I'm gonna make you swallow your stupid tie."

Danny grinned unrepentantly and rubbed his hands together. "Not a word, then. Okay, let's set this up."

#*#*#*#*#


	36. Skeleton Key

Once again, I apologize for such a delay between chapters. I haven't given up on the story and hope to update more frequently!

#*#*#*#*#

The surveillance van was stuffy, and crowded.

Charlie nudged Danny and pointed to Steve and Riley, sitting next to each other, headphones in place, oblivious to the others. Both of them were bouncing their left knee, vibrating with nervous energy.

"It's uncanny," Charlie murmured.

Danny nodded in agreement. "It's downright spooky."

"Okay, Kono, don't forget we need three seconds of video to get the most accurate facial recognition," Steve said. "And the instant you feel like something's wrong, you give the word and we will be there." He nodded to Chin.

They watched the video feed as a heavily muscled man approached Kono.

"Lovely flower," he said, nodding at the flower tucked behind her ear, the identifying signal they'd arranged.

"Lovely morning," she answered, looking directly at him.

"Got it," Chin whispered. "We have a clear shot of his face; running it through facial recognition now."

The man pulled out the chair across the table from Kono. "What's a lovely young woman like you doing in the dark corner of the world?" he asked.

Kono shrugged. "I'm just trying to survive, man, just like anyone else. I work two jobs, but in Honolulu, that's barely enough to make rent. Just looking for a way to make some extra cash."

"Can't you ask family to help?" he asked. "Got any parents, aunties, anyone here on the island?"

Kono laughed. "Yeah, no. Not an option. Look, I know I can go to the lab near the university and get about twenty-five dollars to donate plasma, but they have limits. I can only go once a week, right? But I'm healthy enough to do way more than that. I surf, I get great food at one of my jobs, so I eat good. My metabolism is super fast, so I figure I make plasma just about as fast as you can take it. So, you acted like you had a better set-up. I'm interested, but don't waste my time."

"I can offer you money you've never dreamed of," the man said, "and it doesn't even involve a needle. It does, however, take advantage of that healthy body of yours."

"I don't like where this is headed," Chin murmured. "Get out of there, Kono."

"Look," Kono said, "I clearly know my way around the dark web, which should tell you something. Don't play subtle, man. Just tell me what you have to offer, straight up, or I'm out of here."

"Good girl," Steve murmured. "Get him to say it, we'll bust him."

"Okay, fine," the man said. "Wealthy men - and women - come to the island, they need . . . distraction. Diversion."

"So you're, like, what? A pimp?" Kono asked, allowing a little disgust to creep into her tone.

"I facilitate a mutually beneficial arrangement," the man said. "Companionship of a physical nature to the wealthy, while ensuring their privacy. Generous pay for you, while ensuring your safety. Consenting adults, no harm, no foul."

"Except if I get caught, I get a criminal record," Kono said. "Prostitution isn't something I'd planned on adding to my resume."

The man chuckled. "I have enough clients who are locals in . . . high positions. In the unlikely event that you were ever put in a position to be charged, I can assure you, there'd be no record."

"That's all we need," Chin said, "we've got him. Let's go."

Steve spoke directly into Kono's communication feed. "You want to do the honors, Kono? Read this asshole his rights."

By the time Steve, Chin, and Danny entered the building, Kono had the man against the wall, in handcuffs.

"This is entrapment," he protested loudly.

"Hardly," Chin said, shoving him with more force than was strictly necessary. "This isn't even what we were after, you scum."

"Hey," the man protested. "Like I said - consenting adults. People make their own choices."

"Yeah?" Danny demanded, putting a finger in the man's face. "That's why the first thing you do, right, is make sure these girls don't have parents, family, anyone they can go to for help. We know your kind; you prey on the vulnerable. Well, I got news for you, buddy. Your line of work no longer lets these girls take the fall for you. Catch up, asshole."

At the man's look of confusion, Steve smiled grimly at him. "Oh, had you not heard?" Steve asked, his voice a deadly calm. "We're not looking to charge anyone with prostitution. That's the old way of thinking. You're going down for human trafficking. If you're lucky, maybe you can help yourself just a little bit by telling us who else can get charged, for corruption and obstruction of justice."

#*#*#*#*#

It was well past dark by the time the paperwork was completed, and Steve and Riley headed home.

"So, today was a success, of sorts," Riley said. "Although we're no closer to whoever is behind stealing these organs."

"Yeah," Steve said, sighing. "It was a nibble, but . . . the people who woke up without kidneys didn't go looking for opportunities to sell an organ. It was the longest of long shots to begin with, but . . . it was worth a try. Organ brokers have been known to deal with both options - people looking to sell and people they can snatch."

"Still, we took down a real asshole, so that's something," Riley said.

Steve hesitated, then took a breath and started to speak. "So, what he was suggesting to Kono -"

"Steve, seriously?" Riley asked, grinning. "You think you need to explain forced prostitution to me?"

"You said you had gaps," he said. "I don't - Riley, you were raised by . . . our mother, and . . . Joe, and Frank, and there was a lab, and - hell, I have no idea what you understand and what you don't. I'm trying to be responsible, here."

"Oh my God," Riley said, "you . . . oh, you are so sweet. You're worried that I don't understand . . . sex? Really?"

Steve squirmed uncomfortably in the driver's seat.

"Shelburne explained the logistics," she said. "There was a medical textbook. Illustrated. It was all very clinical."

"Oh, shit," Steve said, faintly.

"Frank realized that I didn't actually understand a damn thing," she continued, "and made sure I understood that there were people like the guy with Kono today. And then he yelled at Joe for a solid hour."

"For good reason," Steve said tersely. "God, our family is so dysfunctional . . . Mary . . . at least she had Aunt Deb. Somehow, Mary ended up with the best upbringing of all of us, and if that's not one of the saddest things I've ever said . . . I'm sorry, Riley. I'm so sorry that you didn't have . . . all the things you should have had. I'm sorry that Frank, of all people, had to . . ."

"In hindsight," Riley said slowly, "I think he figured it out. That I wasn't being . . . raised, so much as . . . developed. Like a prize piece of research. I knew a lot of 'what', but I didn't . . . she never explained why, or how. Frank knew that put me at risk, so he did what he thought was best to protect me."

"I'm glad," Steve said. "I'm glad someone did. Shit. So . . ."

"No, I don't have any questions," Riley said, smiling. "Steve. I did spend almost a year at University of Tokyo. I have gaps, I'm not - I'm not some sort of idiot savant. I'm comfortably educated on the topic, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said, relieved. "Good. Okay."

"Right," Riley said, nodding. "So you can quit puffing up like a blowfish every time Charlie and I share the elevator."

"I - I don't -" Steve stammered. He sighed in defeat. "Okay."

The whole uncomfortable conversation had been worth it, he thought, as Riley burst into a fit of giggles.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat smiled at the man in front of him.

"So, my sources tell me that Five-O made an arrest today. We were successful," WoFat said. He steepled his fingers together thoughtfully.

"Respectfully, sir, we sacrificed one of our most lucrative . . . companionship service providers," the man said. "I wouldn't have thought you would have considered that a success."

"It means that we were correct on all counts - the governor predictably forced McGarrett and the others to leave the bodies on the dock alone and focus on this supposed organ trafficking ring, and they sent little Riley into the dark web to do it," WoFat said. "We killed the proverbial two birds with one stone."

"If you say so, sir," the man nodded.

"The Yakuza stay on the cutting edge of technology," WoFat said, "while the Khangpae refuse to change with the times."

"I don't understand the delay. You know where the girl is. Surely there's opportunity to take her," the man said.

"In good time," WoFat said. "But Shelburne destroyed my life. Sins of the fathers and all that . . . there are people who deserve to be taught a lesson. The CIA, the Navy - they think the girl is tamed, declawed, now that the technology has been destroyed. They have no idea what she's capable of. They'll start treating her like a civilian. They don't understand that she still holds so many secrets."

"The monks aren't so foolish," the man warned. "They already tried to get to her once."

"Ah, but the monks also refuse to change with the times," WoFat said. "No, the Yakuza will control the girl, and whoever controls the girl holds the keys. Allowing her to dabble in the dark web was an act of hubris; one they will come to regret."


	37. Skeleton Key 2

A/N: Another short chapter, but I felt like it was helpful to revisit a few snippets of storyline since the story was on pause for a while.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wow, dinner," Catherine said, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "Tablecloth, candles, the whole nine yards. I'm impressed, sailor."

Steve turned from the grill and grinned at Catherine. So, they hadn't made it to their reservations - again. But some quick thinking and a rummage through the buffet in the dining room, and he'd had the lanai table transformed before Catherine got out of the shower.

"No waiters with bow ties, though, sorry. You'll have to make do with me," he said, turning back and flipping the steaks.

Catherine admired him standing at the grill, his board shorts slung low on his hips, the play of lean muscle across his back, the ink visible on his biceps as he manipulated the tongs.

"I'll manage," she sighed. "Where's Riley this weekend? I hope you didn't shoo her away on my account."

"I did, actually," he said, "and that's not a problem. She's staying with Kono, who I believe is intent on teaching her to surf. And . . . okay, not only do you and I deserve some time and some privacy, but believe me, I've had enough awkward conversations with my baby sister this week. I'm having enough trouble coping without worrying that she's . . . like Mary pointed out. These walls are thin."

Catherine laughed and took a bite of steak. "This is delicious. Tell me about this awkward conversation."

"So, we busted a guy for suspected human trafficking this week," Steve said. He poured more wine into Catherine's glass. "We'd used the dark web, so even though we sent Kono in, Riley was on comms in case she needed to feed tech information to Kono."

Catherine nodded in understanding.

"The guy was a total sleaze, came on to Kono, asked if she had family, that kind of thing. Suggested she could make the money she needed by using her body," Steve said, his lip curling in disgust. "I wasn't sure . . . Riley is so young, and she spent most of her teenage years with Joe and Frank . . . I felt like, well, like I needed to be responsible, to make sure she . . . "

"Oh, Steve," Catherine said, trying to smother a grin. "You didn't. You had 'the talk' with Riley?"

"I wasn't sure if anyone ever had," Steve said defensively. "And that's dangerous, Catherine, you know that. She can't afford to be naive, and she's only been with, with monks, for God's sake, and old soldiers and sailors, and . . . and Charlie Fong was holding her hand."

"Really? The lab guy?" Catherine said, perking up with interest. "That's sweet."

"No, it's not sweet," Steve insisted. "It's . . . he's older than her."

"Maybe three or four years," Catherine said. "Hardly robbing the cradle."

"He's her boss," Steve muttered darkly.

"Because you assigned her to work for him," Catherine pointed out. "That's not his fault, or hers. But back to your awkwardness -"

Steve groaned.

"Because I find it delightfully funny," Catherine continued. "Did you have to explain the birds and the bees to your beautiful younger sister?"

"No," Steve said weakly. "She - she understood. Frank. Frank had . . . oh my God, I can't believe we are having this conversation."

Catherine laughed, and Steve couldn't help but smile. He loved her laugh, low and throaty and contagious.

"You're a good brother, Steve," she said, wiping her eyes. "Clueless, completely clueless, but a good brother."

#*#*#*#*#

"I don't get it," Danny declared, waving his hands at the plasma. "Weeks. We've gone weeks without another kidney victim. It's enough to make me think the guy we busted was responsible, somehow."

"None of the victims recognized his picture," Kono said. "There's absolutely nothing connecting him to the cases."

"Except for the fact that the activity seemed to stop, once we had him in custody," Steve said.

"You don't think it could just be coincidence?" Chin asked. "There is such a thing, you know."

Steve looked long and hard at the photos of the victims on the plasma. "Well, until we get another damn lead, we have to hope that it is." He tossed down a file folder and stalked to his office.

"He was more fun to work with while Catherine was in port," Kono muttered, clearing off the smart table and saving the open files to the hard drive.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley sipped her tea as she sat, legs crossed, at her low computer desk in her office. She'd settled back into an easy routine of working on the database. This week she was back to cataloguing tattoos, adding the strangely layered ink of the bodies from the dock. She painstakingly entered every possible search parameter into the database. It was the second day, and she had barely scratched the surface. It was work that she enjoyed - detailed, methodical, almost meditative. Her office was quiet.

Quiet, almost silent - except for the faint whisper that caught her attention.

 _Riley_.

She paused, placed her tea cup deliberately to the side of her desk, and tilted her head, toward the hallway. Maybe one of the other technicians was calling her?

 _Riley_.

Strange. The sound seemed to be coming from her computer. She frowned and pressed the mute button. Mute. Un-mute. She fiddled with the volume control, turning the speakers up as loud as they could go, but she heard only a faint static.

The HVAC system engaged at that moment, with a whooshing sound, as the air moved through the vent. The leaves on the plant from Jerry moved gently.

Ah. That probably explained . . . it was the airconditioning compressor, or some such. Riley picked up her tea and went back to work.

#*#*#*#*#

"Well done," WoFat murmured. It was an understatement. The man sitting in the desk before him was a genius, pure and simple. "We have both audio and video feed from her laptop?"

"Yes, sir," the man said, bowing his head.

"And it's specific to her device - not to the network," WoFat said, pacing behind the man.

"Yes, sir," he said again. "We used the connection to the dark web to access her hard drive on her laptop itself. Wherever she uses it, we will have live feed of both audio and visual. When it's turned on, of course, on our end."

"And you were able to activate the speakers. She heard my voice. You could tell, the way she stopped, and checked her computer," WoFat said, his hand still caressing the small microphone into which he'd just whispered. "Amazing." He placed the microphone on the table, and his hand went into his pocket.

The man straightened, but did not turn. "If you are thinking of executing me, you may want to reconsider," he said, his voice level and resigned. "I designed access to the feed and to the speaker to work in a very specific, very detailed order. Only I possess the key stroke combination that allows you to access to the speaker, the camera, and the hard drive. If the key strokes are entered out of order, a detailed message explaining the process will be instantly and irretrievably placed into the inbox of all of her email accounts, as well as the inboxes of the Five-O team. I am worth much, much more to you alive than dead."

WoFat tightened his grip on his gun, scowling. He'd not given this man nearly enough credit.

"Very well, then," he sighed. A smile played across his face. This man wasn't just a computer genius, he was a bit of an evil genius as well. And WoFat always, always had room in his life for evil genius.

"Well played, Lee Soo. Well played," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Lee Soo said. "What else?"

"That's all for today," WoFat said. "We'll take our time. This process will require patience, like developing a fine wine. Driving someone to the brink of insanity isn't something that can be rushed.

#*#*#*#*#

Charlie Fong paused in the doorway of Riley's office. He tapped gently on the open door before leaning in.

"Riley, are you still working?" he asked, concerned. "Everyone else has been gone for almost an hour."

"Well, not everyone," she said, smiling up at him. "You're still here working."

"True, because I make it a matter of principle not to leave until all of my team has gone home. But," he added pointedly, "I'm getting hungry. And I'm sure you are, too."

"Steve must have lost track of time, too," she said, laughing. She started shutting down her computer, carefully backing everything up and marking her place in the hard copy records. "I can take a hint, though, and I will scoot right upstairs. Sorry to keep you late."

"Not at all," he assured her. "I really did just finish. I'll see you up. The building is probably empty except for Five-O."

"It's really not necessary," Riley said, grabbing her messenger bag.

"Well, the way I look at it, your brother is going to scowl at me for seeing you upstairs," Charlie said, as they got on the elevator, "or resent me for not being a gentleman and not seeing you upstairs. As it stands, I'll take the scowl."

"Sorry," Riley muttered. "He's . . . Mary was about twelve when their dad sent them away. I think, in his mind, Mary and I are both still twelve."

"Makes perfect sense to me," Charlie said. "I never said I faulted him for it. Anyway, how did the database come along today?"

"It's very slow work, but I enjoy it," Riley said. "That's why it was easy for me to lose track of time. It's so quiet in my office, I love it. Though -" she hesitated.

"What is it?" Charlie asked. "Is there something you need in the office?" He gestured for her to step off the elevator first, as it came to a smooth stop in the Five-O office suite.

"No, no, it's just . . . I don't know, it was so quiet today, and it sounded like someone was saying my name, but I don't think anyone was," she said. "Was someone looking for me?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Charlie said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Do you want me to pull the security camera footage and look? Do you remember what time it was?"

"No," she insisted. "The air conditioning kicked on right after. It was probably just the compressor or something. I don't even know why I mentioned it."

"But you did mention it, so it must have bothered you," Charlie said. "I'm pulling the footage."

"What footage?" Steve demanded, joining them as he went about the office, powering down for the evening. "What's bothering you?"

"And hello, Steven, it's nice to see you to, and yes, it was thoughtful of Charlie to see me upstairs," Riley said, raising her eyebrows.

"Charlie, thanks," Steve said awkwardly. "I completely lost track of time."

"Riley did, too, working on the database," Charlie said. "And she's trying to dismiss it, but apparently she thought she heard someone saying her name today, but as far as she knows, no one was in her office or the hallway."

"I think it was just something with the ventilation or HVAC," Riley said. "Seriously, I have no idea why it even came to mind. It's nothing."

Steve shook his head. "No, Riley, I agree with Charlie. If you thought of it hours later, something about it stuck with you. Charlie, let me know when you pull the footage, yeah? I'll go over it with you."

"You're both being entirely too concerned," Riley said.

"No such thing where you're concerned," Charlie replied. "Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow." He waved and stepped back onto the elevator.

Steve stared at the elevator door until Riley poked him in the ribs.

"What?" she demanded.

Steve looked down at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "He's being all . . ."

"Thoughtful?" Riley asked, dryly. "How dare he."

"No, that's not the word I'm looking for," Steve mumbled. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers and pointed at the elevator. "Solicitous."

"That's a synonym for thoughtful. I'm impressed that you know it, but it means the same thing," Riley said.

"Different connotation," Steve insisted.

"Seriously?" Riley looked up at him. "And again, oh my. Someone, on the friendliest, nicest island in the world, is expressing concern for someone else. Call in the sidewinders, scorch the earth."

"You - you have spent entirely too much time with Kono," Steve said, laughing in spite of himself. "Fine. Charlie is being very thoughtful, and in this case, he's siding with me, so I just have very mixed feelings about the whole situation, okay?"

"Okay," Riley said, patting his arm sympathetically. "I don't suppose it would make you feel any better at all to for me to tell you that Charlie is not the first guy who's been . . . solicitous, would it?"

"No," Steve said, sorrowfully. "No. That absolutely wouldn't make me feel better."

"Okay, then," Riley said. "I won't tell you."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny stepped out of the shower, toweled dry his hair, and then slipped into his most comfortable basketball shorts and his Hoboken PD t-shirt. It had been a gag gift, after the tasing incident, but it was soft and worn, and it didn't pinch through the shoulders. He had one hand in the refrigerator, reaching for a well-deserved beer, when his phone buzzed on the counter. He closed his eyes and toyed with ignoring the phone and downing the beer, so as to be able to tell Steve to bug off, thank you, he couldn't be on duty with alcohol in his system. Then he sighed, closed the door, and picked up the phone.

"Rebecca?" he said, after quickly thumbing across the phone to accept the call. He was surprised to hear from her. They'd enjoyed a brief text conversation on their lunch hours, and she'd mentioned coming off her fourth straight day of twelve hour shifts and looking forward to going home and crashing. They'd made casual plans for tomorrow evening. "Rebecca?" he repeated again, when there was no reply on the other end.

"Danny, I'm sorry, I just -" Her voice was shaky.

His keys were in his hand instantly, and he shoved his shoes into flip flops - they were flip flops, he didn't care what ridiculous name Steve had for them - and he was out the door. "I'm coming to you. Are you at home?"

"Yes, but it's really not necessary," she said. "I'm sorry, I know you're tired and just getting in for the evening, it's nothing, really -"

"Rebecca," he said gently, as he turned out of his apartment complex parking lot. "I'm already in the car, headed your way, so let's shelve the conversation about whether or not I'm coming. Are you safe? Are you hurt? Do I need to call anyone else?"

"No, it's nothing like that," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I lost a patient today. I can't talk about the details, it might end up a homicide case, and I can't - and I don't have anyone but you to call, I'm sorry -"

"Okay, okay," Danny soothed. "You know I understand. I'll be there in five."

Rebecca answered the door at his first knock, wearing gym shorts and a Baltimore PD t-shirt. She let Danny pull her into a hug, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

"Hey, it's okay, I've got you," he murmured.

She burst into tears, sobbing against him, as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. After a few moments, she pulled herself together and straightened.

"We look quite the pair," she said, wiping her eyes and smiling, pointing at their t-shirts. "Hoboken?"

"Long story, which I will tell you, to cheer you up," Danny said. "A good laugh at someone else's expense usually makes me feel better. I was wondering, though . . . do you want to stay here, or go back to my place, or - I actually have a third option in mind."

"Well, now I'm curious," she said. "What were you thinking?"

"Ocean view, a reminder that you're not alone on this chunk of rock, and quiet conversation - or comfortable silence - with people who totally understand not being at liberty to talk about the horrible, upsetting, traumatic thing that just happened," Danny said, smiling.

"Steve's house?" Rebecca guessed. "Oh, that would be - but I hate to impose."

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "Believe me, we've had a slow week - not that I said that out loud - and he and Riley probably have energy to burn and don't know what to do with themselves. Steve is . . . well, you stayed there, although it was under crazy circumstances, but he's a surprisingly hospitable guy, to be, you know . . . a lethal killing machine. Between the two of us, I think he gets lonely. He's never turned me away yet, and I tested the open door policy pretty thoroughly during the worst of the custody battle. Why don't you grab an overnight bag, since you have tomorrow off, and I'll give him a call."

"If you're sure . . . "

"I will give him an easy out to say no," Danny promised, "but I don't think he will."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was flipping chicken on the grill, and smacking Riley's hand away as she tried to snag one of the slices of pineapple grilling alongside. To his dismay, she was faster, and he stared at her as she munched happily on the partially grilled piece of fruit.

"You - how -" he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Did you burn your fingers?"

"No, silly," she scoffed.

"That -" he said, pointing at her with the tongs, "is spooky and uncanny." His phone buzzing interrupted his train of thought. He pointed at her again in warning as he answered. "Danno, what's up?"

"Hey, Steve," Danny said, keeping his voice quiet. "I was wondering if Rebecca and I could come over for a while?"

"Yeah, absolutely, Danny," Steve said. "I'll put some more chicken on the grill, I have plenty . . . everything okay?"

"She had a hell of a day at work, lost a patient," Danny explained. "Probably going to be ruled a homicide so she can't even talk about it. I just . . . I think she needs to know she has a support network here, and it's not like her job - or her background - really make it easy for her to make a lot of friends. I figured, you and Riley, you get being pretty jacked up over something that you can't really talk about. Thought it might be good for her. Plus, you know, she loves sitting on the beach."

Riley had heard mention of adding chicken to the grill and had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with more meat and pineapple. She handed it off to Steve and went back for more place settings to add to the table.

"Sounds great, Danny," Steve said. "Riley's already grabbed more chicken and I'm putting it on now. Come on over."

"What's up?" Riley asked, setting the table. "Danny and Gracie coming?"

"Danny and Rebecca," Steve said. "She had a really tough case today, not something she can talk about, but Danny thought hanging out here would be good for her."

"I hope so," Riley said. "She deserves the best care we can take of her."

Steve's hand caught Riley's as she turned to go back to the kitchen. He turned her wrist over in his hand, his thumb tracing over the scar that ran down the inside of her arm. "Yeah, she really does," he agreed. "Not sure we'd be here without her."

Riley squeezed his hand. "So, we'll take good care of her," she assured him. "Steve. Everyone is okay. You know that, right?"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head. "I know. I want it to stay that way."

"It is. It's staying that way. Also, I think I smell burning pineapple," she added.

Danny and Rebecca arrived to a warm welcome, simply delicious food - though Danny, on principle, objected to the pineapple - and hugs all around.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day," Riley said, gently embracing Rebecca. "You're a wonderful nurse. Whoever the patient was, they surely knew that they were cared for, that they weren't alone. That counts for something."

Danny smiled at Steve, his blue eyes crinkling. "Now, there you go. It was a good idea to bring her over, yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed. He hugged Rebecca as well. "You know you are always, always welcome here, Rebecca. The door is always open to you; you're our ohana. We will never forget what you did for Riley, for us. Don't ever hesitate, okay?"

Rebecca nodded and wiped at her eyes. "This is - I'm not usually so - oh, shit. Can I have a beer, and some food?"

They laughed and settled in to eat, and soon Rebecca reminded Danny of his promise.

"The infamous Hoboken taser incident?" Steve said, his eyes lighting up. "Even I haven't been able to convince Danny to tell the story. I just know that there was an incident."

Danny sighed dramatically. "It was what I had to offer in Rebecca's moment of need," he said. "And the sacrifice to my reputation will be worth it, if it brings a smile to her face."

"Wow," Steve said. "I'm impressed with your devotion, Danno, I really am."

"Are you gonna shut up and let me tell the story?" Danny demanded. "Okay, it was Halloween, and I was picking up an extra security shift. New Jersey has a high cost of living, you know? Needed to supplement a little, with the holidays coming up. So, there's this row of frat houses, right?"

Riley looked confused.

"Frat houses . . . um, off-campus college housing, fraternities are groups of guys, usually have lots of Daddy's money and not very much of Mommy's smarts. They're rowdy, usually disgusting, occasionally violent . . . Gracie will never, never, never date a frat boy."

"I was in a fraternity at Annapolis," Steve protested. "Phi Sigma Iota."

"And . . . that was a fraternity for -" Danny prompted.

"Excellence in the study and teaching of foreign language and international involvement," Steve said proudly.

Danny blinked at him. "You have no idea what life is like in the real world, do you? I would say I'm sad for you, but seriously, babe, you got the better end of the deal."

"So you'd let Gracie date a US Naval Academy midshipman, who was a member of a fraternity," Steve challenged, stabbing another piece of chicken with his fork.

"That's not even up for conversation," Danny said firmly. "Because my baby is never going to date, ever, period."

Riley rolled her eyes. "There's a lot of that going around," she muttered.

Steve started to point his fork at Riley, then, and Rebecca spoke up quickly.

"Okay, so Danny, you were called to provide security for a row of frat houses? On Halloween?" she said. When Steve wasn't looking, she winked at Riley.

"Yes, and what could go wrong?" Danny said, waving his hands. "The school mascot, that's what. The frat boys had stolen the mascot from a rival school, and thus, there was a baby bull in the frat house."

"A bull? You're shitting me," Steve said. "You are totally making this up."

"I'm about to get to the humiliating part," Danny said, "and trust me, nothing would compel me to make this up. If you would stop interrupting -"

Steve gestured for Danny to continue.

"So anyway, there's a baby bull in one of the houses, and obviously, the poor animal goes berserk, freaks out, goes tearing out of the house. Doors are ripped off hinges, the frat boys are drunk and chasing the beast, and it's clearly my responsibility to try to do something to alleviate the situation," Danny said. "I didn't want to fire on the thing, because I didn't want to kill it - normally, I wouldn't want to risk shooting a civilian, but in that moment, I wasn't especially concerned. So, I thought to myself, hey, a taser is similar to a cattle prod. Farmers use cattle prods. Ergo, the taser would be appropriate."

"Ergo?" Steve mouthed silently to Riley, who dissolved in a fit of giggles.

"I pulled out the taser and tried to get an angle on the little bull. He was actually pretty cute," Danny continued. "I miscalculated, and he knocked me on my ass. I figured, okay, from that angle, I can hit his, you know, his underbelly. I figured it would be more sensitive than his flank or whatever, be an okay idea. So, I held up my taser, about even with my waist, and fired."

He stopped, rubbing his hand over his face.

"And?" Rebecca prompted.

"Didn't realize that in getting knocked over, I'd fumbled the taser. It wasn't pointing at the bull. It was pointing at me," Danny said.

"Oh, no," Rebecca said. "Where'd you get hit?"

Danny sighed, closed his eyes, and pointed -

"Holy shit!" Steve yelled, grabbing at his crotch instinctively. "Holy shit, that is just wrong, man."

Rebecca and Riley sat, their eyes wide with shock and amusement.

"Oh, dear," Rebecca said faintly. "That's . . . hmm. Unfortunate."

Danny's head shot up. "It still works just fine," he assured her, then blushed furiously.

"Seriously, Danno?" Steve groaned.

Riley and Rebecca laughed until their sides hurt while Steve crossed and uncrossed his legs compulsively, casting horrified glances at Danny.

Later, Danny and Steve looked down toward the water where Rebecca and Riley had waded in to their knees, enjoying the last of the sunset and laughing together.

"Thanks, Steve," Danny said quietly. "She was . . . man, she was devastated. It must have been bad. This obviously helped."

"Riley needed someone other than her overbearing, overprotective big brother to spend time with, too," Steve sighed. He watched Riley for a moment. "You think Riley's ever had a boyfriend?"

Danny looked up at him in surprise. "I would have assumed she did, yeah. I mean, she's a beautiful girl, Steve, even if she does look like you, and not a thing like Mary. She was at college for almost a year. Don't most girls have a boyfriend in high school? I mean, we had girlfriends in high school, right? Anyway, why does the idea freak you out so much? Mary's had a whole string of boyfriends, and you've only threatened to shoot like, two or three of them, max."

"Riley's different," Steve said, shaking his head. "I worry that she's been so sheltered . . . she would be very easily taken advantage of. Maybe not physically, but emotionally."

"Ah. So, you especially feel the need to run interference from the young man who knows her background, knows her history, knows that you could kill him seventeen times with your pinky before breakfast," Danny said, "and who understood that she shot him deliberately in the shoulder to try to save his life, and has witnessed any number of inexplicable and spooky things about her . . . and yet was seen - in the moment in which I got shot, may I remind you, which was upsetting to Riley and also to me - holding her hand. Holding her hand, Steve, which is about as innocent a gesture as you can get. Case in point? Gracie holds hands with boys. She's in the third grade. She also holds hands with girls because we are raising a very open minded child and I'm okay with that. But I digress. So yeah, wow, Charlie Fong. Better watch out for him, because he clearly has no idea that Riley is special, or different, or that she is surrounded by a handful of people who could hide a body, leave no evidence . . . yeah, nothing about Charlie Fong that says, 'possibly enough courage and compassion to be worthy of Riley'. Totally. Run him off. I'm sure Riley will appreciate it so much that she'll never consider shoving her boot up your ass and going to live in the mountain house."

Steve stared at Danny for a long moment. "You done?" he asked, finally. "Cause that was a long one, even for you."

"I'm done," Danny said cheerfully. "Want a beer?"

#*#*#*#*#

Steve stared at the ceiling at two am, Danny's words on an endless loop in his mind.

 _. . . Even though she looks like you, and not a thing like Mary._

He remembered his conversation with Joe, the words seared into his memory, as he'd stood, fixed in place, Joe's calm gaze holding his own. And Joe . . .

 _I don't know, Steve. I just know that I've always wondered. Timelines match up and I've always wondered, and if there's any possibility . . ._

He thought back to his last conversation with Joe before he'd disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt, and moved soundlessly down the stairs. Still, Riley's overly keen hearing picked up on something, and he heard her stir and mumble in her room. He paused, waiting to be sure she had settled, and then continued to his desk.

The drawer was locked, still, not that the lock had prevented Joe from placing his DNA sample in it before he'd disappeared. Steve frowned. Joe had claimed to have left them with a DNA sample, but he also knew that Steve had been reluctant to open another Pandora's box. Maybe he'd just said that to throw Steve off, to prevent Steve from demanding a sample before he left.

He wasn't suprised when Riley appeared in front of him, her hair tumbling in wild waves around her face. She slipped into a chair across from the desk, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"You're thinking very loudly," she said.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said, smiling at her. "Sorry."

"The phone didn't ring," she offered, and he wondered, fleetingly, how she was so terribly certain of that. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Riley, you know DNA testing has proven that you and I are full siblings, right?"

"Ummhmm," she said, nodding. "And Danny frequently points out other evidence."

"He does, true," Steve chuckled. "How important is it to you, beyond that? Beyond knowing that you and I are brother and sister."

She was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure I understand."

"How much do you want to know about our parents?" Steve asked carefully. "About other relatives? According to DNA. Aside from our ohana, our team, our friends."

"Why?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, fearful. "Who else wants to know?"

"Hey," he said, as he stood and came around to the other side of the desk. He leaned against it, close to her, and tucked her hair away from her face. "No, no one else wants to know. This is - I'm not doing this right. Riley, we never compared our DNA sample against anyone else's. Just against each others." He paused, knowing that her lightning fast intellect would catch up in a second.

"Oh," she said softly, realization dawning. "Oh. You're saying we don't know . . . who? Shelburne? Shelburne isn't our mother?"

Steve winced at the hopeful tone in her voice. "Honey," he said gently, "I guess anything is possible, but no one has raised any doubts about that. I'm pretty sure Shelburne is our mother."

"So . . . your father? Maybe, he wasn't . . ."

"The question has been raised," Steve said carefully.

"We don't look like Mary," Riley said quietly. "We look so much alike, but we don't look like Mary. She's tiny, and she has that cute little nose."

Steve smiled. Mary did have a cute little nose. He glanced at a family photo on the wall - he'd meant to quietly remove a few, as none of them included Riley and it made him angry - Mary looked like an adorable, feminine version of their father. Same nose. He felt a chill go up his spine.

"The question has been raised because someone raised it, right? Some who thinks he might -" Riley looked up at him, and took a deep breath. "The decision is yours," she said.

Steve started to protest, but she held up a hand.

"No. I've never had a father. I grew up without a father, I never expected a father. I have no memories, no conversations, no pictures. You have all of those things. The decision is yours. You're the one who stands to lose something here, not me," she said. "So, the decision is yours, and I trust your judgment."

He stared at her in fond amazement. "Wow. Riley, are you sure . . ."

"I'm sure," she said.

"I've underestimated you," he said quietly. "I've underestimated your maturity. I'm sorry."

"It happens frequently," she said, smiling at him. "It's okay. If I go back to sleep, are you going to go to sleep, or are you going to sit down here and ponder?" She started to unfold herself from the chair.

He laughed and grabbed her in a hug.

"Mmmf," she mumbled, as he cradled her head against his shoulder. "Not that I'm complaining, because I'm not, but you and your ohana are a very huggy lot, you know that? Been hugged more since I got here than in my whole life put together."

She yawned and padded back toward her bedroom. Steve looked down the hall for a long moment, and then slowly and silently took down the incomplete family pictures lining the wall of the office. He left the ones of himself, and of Mary, smiling as he encountered a favorite. Then he pulled out his phone and frowned at it, studying a selection of apps.

Within a few moments, new pictures had been ordered, in glossy eight by ten and eleven by fourteen splendor: a picture of the team at a charity surfing event, a photo of Danny and Gracie, a shot of Riley, Rebecca, and Mary from the time that Danny had dubbed 'Steve's Days of Women', his favorite picture of Catherine, and a picture of himself and Riley that Joe had apparently snapped at the mountain house. Satisfied, he turned off the light and went up the stairs.

Despite knowing, beyond a doubt, that he had made absolutely no sound on the staircase, Riley's mumbled, 'night Steve' drifted up to him just as he cleared the last stair. He paused, the words of Agent Fielding coming back to mind . . .

" _That's why the original genetic enhancements had to take place,"_ Fielding had explained. " _She had to be genetically, physically capable. Her physical DNA had to be carefully constructed to be able to keep up with what the nanotechnology could do."_

His mind flashed back to earlier that evening, when she'd playfully snagged a piece of pineapple off the grill. Her hand had moved so quickly . . . the pineapple was there, right under his nose, and then it was gone. He didn't remember seeing her reach for it, even.

Steve went back to bed. Sleep, when it came, was hours later, and broken with images of Riley, pale and shaking, in the godforsaken Special Activities Division laboratory.


	38. Viral 1

A/N: A new story line! This is just a short chapter, there's more to come.

A reader asked about Danny and Rebecca, and why she would call him . . . this is what happens when it takes me forever to post new chapters, sorry! Waaay back in the story, when Steve pulled Riley out of the Special Activities Lab, Rebecca was the nurse who helped him. We saw little hints of interest from Danny then, and it was Danny who helped Rebecca shop for clothing and get set up in a new apartment. In Chapter 33, Danny introduced Rebecca to Rachel when he was injured and in the hospital, and he tells her that he would like to be more than friends. And then in Chapter 35, there is snuggling. All of this because I think Danny should either be with Rachel or with someone who genuinely understands the nature of his work and the importance of his team, and so in this story, I went with the second option. :-) I hope that helps! And I'll try to post more frequently, if at all possible.

#*#*#*#*#

Charlie exited the elevator and headed for Steve's office.

"Hey, Charlie," Steve said, standing up and gripping his hand in a friendly handshake. Mostly friendly. Just enough of a grip to remind Charlie that he could, if the situation called for it, break his neck with his bare hands. But mostly friendly.

Charlie smiled and looked him straight in the eye. Steve wasn't his boss, exactly . . . and Charlie wasn't dating Steve's sister, exactly - although, in time . . .

"This shouldn't be awkward," Charlie said.

Steve sighed and dropped his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I just - I'm an overprotective son of a bitch, apparently."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Charlie laughed. "You think I don't understand? The situation warrants that you be overprotective. I hope that in time, it will become obvious that we're both interested in protecting Riley, and her best interests."

"So you _are_ interested in my sister?" Steve said. He tried to say it politely. He did, really, and wow, Kono was shamelessly leaning around her computer monitor and peering into his office. He glared at her and she grinned back. He sighed again. Really, he knew that first day on the beach, this was what he could expect.

"Absolutely," Charlie said. "Seriously, man - she's intelligent, compassionate, funny . . . beautiful, obviously. And strong and stubborn enough to manage not to kill me, at great pain and unknown risk to herself. I'd have to be blind and a fool not to be interested. I'd also have to be blind and a fool to try to pressure her in any way. They'd never find my body."

"I'm not trying to threaten -" Steve said hastily. He remembered Danny's comments about Charlie, and really, Danny was right: Riley could do much, much worse.

Charlie laughed again. "Brah, seriously, you think Riley would need your help?"

Steve blinked at him, and nodded slowly. "You have an excellent point. I . . . I'll try not to be an asshole. That's the best I can promise at the moment."

"Fair enough. Now that's settled, want to go over this footage? I did find something interesting," Charlie said.

"Yeah, absolutely," Steve said, holding out his hand to accept the flashdrive. "Let's put it on the plasma." He led the way to the smart table and queued up the file.

"By the way, Riley and every member of my team is fully aware of the security cameras," Charlie said. "We had them installed after . . . the gunshot incident. There are no cameras in the breakroom or the restrooms - I hope that goes without saying. One camera in each office, angled to the door as the primary focus, as you can see. Everyone is free to situate their desk and work surfaces as they see fit. This isn't designed to surveil our people."

"I understand," Steve said, nodding. "We have a similar system in here. Only my team has access to our footage."

"Same," Charlie said. "I have access, and Dr. Bergman. Okay, so as you can see, right . . . here. Here, the door to Riley's office is ajar - she usually keeps it partially open."

"She has some issues with tightly enclosed space," Steve said quietly. "She'd also want to see what's coming at all times."

"Of course, which is why she keeps her work surface at an angle toward the door, her back into the corner," Charlie said. "And because she sits so low, the camera only gets her eyes and the top of her head in the frame. Like most . . . well, okay, like most hackers, she's pretty keen on keeping her screen and keyboard from view. Nine of out ten people in my department are the same. It's instinctive."

Steve sighed, watching the footage, which Charlie had set in extremely slow motion. "The hypervigilance isn't instinctive, though."

"Yeah," Charlie said quietly. "Okay, watch starting at this mark - you'll see . . ."

Steve watched intently. "She tilts her head at the computer . . . now she's looking at the door . . . and back again. She looks confused . . . oh."

"I don't know Riley well enough to claim to be able to interpret her facial expressions, but I'd guess that's going from confusion to fear?" Charlie asked.

"I'd say so," Steve said. He folded his arms over his chest, his lips tightening in a thin line. "Something spooked her, for sure. She tried to blow it off later . . . "

"Yeah, but it stuck with her, enough that she mentioned it to me hours after the fact," Charlie said.

"I appreciate you not letting her dismiss it," Steve said. "And you pulled footage from the hallway?"

"From the hallway, from the adjoining offices . . ." Charlie nodded. "Nothing. No one was near her door, no one was looking for her, or talking about her. There's no reason anyone in the offices that day would have said her name. If she heard something - and clearly, she heard _something_ \- it came from her computer."

"Radio, iPod . . ." Steve mused.

"Highly unlikely," Charlie said, shaking his head. "First of all, she would have thought of that, right? And, I've never heard her listen to music in her office. In fact, it's almost uncomfortably quiet in there, by most people's standards. She seems to like it that way."

Steve thought of Riley hearing him move about the house in the middle of the night - easily, apparently, when everyone else swore that he was silent. Danny routinely threatened to put a bell on him.

"I think . . . I think her hearing is exceptionally sensitive," Steve said. "She loves her office. Maybe she's never complained, but everywhere else is . . . too loud? I'll ask her."

"Good idea," Charlie said. "As long as she's happy, she can have her office as silent as she likes. I'll add soundproofing if she needs it. So, what do we do with this? Obviously, she heard something that caught her attention. Or . . . thought she did. If it didn't come from the computer . . ."

Steve looked at him, horrified. "Shit, you think the . . . something could have been reengaged? From the . . . the Shelburne mess?"

"It's a completely unknown technology," Charlie said gently. "But operating on the assumption it's the computer . . . do you want me to check it out?"

Steve thought for a moment. "I have another idea."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, guys," Jerry called excitedly from the front porch. "Come on in."

Steve smiled as Riley launched herself from the truck and flew up the stairs, her long, coltish legs carrying her up two at a time. She wrapped her willowy arms around Jerry's reduced bulk and squeezed him carefully as he balanced on his walker.

"Jerry," Steve said, following after with Riley's laptop in hand. "How's it going, brah? You're looking fit."

Jerry smiled. "Well, I have always been and will always be a big guy, but I've followed the meal plan and the physical therapy program to the letter. I'm anxious to ditch this walker and get back to driving and going up and down stairs, that's for sure. Turns out the pool exercise therapy is something I love."

"That's fantastic, Jerry," Riley said, helping him navigate his walker back through his front door.

"Although, let's face it, every exercise I do out of the water is automatically a weight-bearing exercise, which is kind of a plus," Jerry said cheerfully. He led them to the dining room, which had been reorganized as his office. "Why am I looking at Riley's laptop?"

She ducked her head sheepishly. "It's probably nothing, but Steve and Charlie are worried."

"Riley heard her name being called the other day," Steve said. "But there was no explanation for it. No one in the hallway or her office, and no one looking for her or asking about her in any of the adjoining offices."

"I probably imagined it," she said.

"And you . . . you think it came from an external source?" Jerry asked quietly. He didn't entertain the possibility that she'd imagined it; not after seeing the concerned look on Steve's face. "Not from, you know."

"My immediate reaction was to mute and unmute my laptop speaker," Riley said. "So, if I heard something, I thought it came from my computer."

"Let's go with your first impression," Jerry nodded, "because that's usually correct. Okay, let's boot this up . . ."

They watched as Jerry's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Have you run a diagnostic on it yet?" he asked Riley.

She nodded. "Yep, it checked out clean for me. I thought maybe I'd picked up a virus when I did some research on the dark net for a case. But I can't find evidence of anything."

Jerry frowned as his fingers continued their rapid tapping.

#*#*#*#*#

"This is a very suspicious person indeed," Lee Soo commented, as he rapidly severed their link to Riley's computer. "I do believe that if he looked long and hard enough, he might find a trace. However, today he is most likely to stumble upon one of the relatively harmless viruses that I installed in the software, and that should divert him from investigating further."

"He is equally suspicious of everyone, and ultimately loyal only to the girl," WoFat said, nodding. "He could prove useful, someday. She's quite fond of him, and McGarrett feels he owes him something. You're sure he won't discover our hardware link?"

"Human nature, even suspicious human nature, is self-congratulatory and easily convinced," Lee Soo said. "He'll be preening under the approval of the girl and McGarrett, they'll be relieved and willing to accept the logical explanation."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks, Jerry," Steve said, as they packed up the equipment. "We owe you another one, man."

"Riley would have found the virus if she'd continued looking," Jerry said. He glanced back toward the kitchen where his mother was insisting upon feeding Riley a snack. "She might have a tendency to underestimate the fact that every day people are up to no good, you know what I'm saying? I mean, she's used to worst case scenario bad guys. I'm not sure that she understands that average citizens are capable of being mean and nasty, just for kicks. I mean, a virus that decoded her name and created an MP3 file . . . it's sophisticated, but doesn't really serve any purpose. Someone was just showing off."

"You think it was a mistake to let her go onto the dark web?" Steve asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"I'm not sure anyone really 'lets' Riley do anything," Jerry pondered seriously.

Steve chuckled and nodded in agreement as Riley came back from the kitchen, carrying a loaf of carefully wrapped bread.

"Ah, mom's been baking," Jerry said, smiling. "You'll enjoy that. Makes the best grilled cheese ever. So, this weekend, the new Zombie Patrol expansion drops. You up for a night of hot pockets and definitely, absolutely, positively no energy drinks whatsoever?"

"You're on," Riley said, grabbing her laptop bag and passing the bread off to Steve. "Send me a text."

She was quiet on the way home, fidgeting with the strap of her laptop bag.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"I'm sorry I didn't block the virus, or even find it," she said. "I'm not used to missing things like that. It bothers me."

Steve nodded. "Look. Jerry said that -"

"That I forget that it's not just the CIA and international arms dealer scum who do bad things. I heard him," Riley sighed.

Steve was quiet for a long moment. "From two rooms away. The sound wouldn't carry . . . and there's no way you were reading our lips. How long has this been going on, Riley? I have excellent hearing, too, and trained to listen and pick up on things most people would miss. You're hearing things that I know I wouldn't."

"This isn't new," she said quietly. "I just didn't realize, until recently, that it wasn't normal."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "It's okay, I just . . . I didn't know."

She was silent for a while. "Yeah, I figured that out."

"You figure - oh, shit."

"Well, I could tell you didn't _want_ me to hear, and you didn't _think_ I could hear, so I found some music on my phone and I put my pillow over my head," she said earnestly. "I didn't disrespect your privacy, Steve."

"Riley," he sighed. "I'm not mad, okay? A little bit embarrassed. And a little bit sorry. You're right, I didn't think . . . geez."

"It's okay," she said, shrugging. "College, remember? Dorms."

He squirmed in embarrassment until another thought, beyond his own discomfort, registered with him. "So, wait, when - you played music on your phone, and you put your phone under the pillow with -"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I swear, it was just for a couple minutes, and when I realized - I knew that would block it. I've done it before, if I couldn't find noise cancelling headphones or something."

"Did it . . . Riley, if you can just normally hear at such a range, it's not like you have equipment that you can dial . . . when you did that, did it - Riley, does that hurt?" he asked, glancing at her in alarm.

She shrugged. "It was just for a while."

"Oh, honey," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not a big deal. I like going to Kono's, she's fun. And you and Catherine . . . you deserve to have time together without worrying about me. I won't live with you forever, I promise. And I did find my noise cancelling headphones. Sometimes I put them on, if -" she broke off.

Steve nodded to himself. "I was starting to piece it together," he said quietly. "That's why you love the mountain house so much; that's why, when I was stitching up your arm, that day, at Tripler, and Danny said to think of a place that made you happy, you mentioned the monastery. The quiet."

"The beach, at your house," she said. "My office. I'm finding places where it's quiet. It's okay. I'm okay. Tokyo . . . after the monastery, after Frank's . . . it was a lot. I spent a lot of time in the computer lab. I thought I was just . . . I didn't know. I thought I was just used to quiet. I didn't realize that my hearing was . . ."

They were silent for a while.

"I don't want it to be tested or anything," she said, after a few moments.

"Okay," he agreed. "But listen, if . . . the office, or the house, or . . . if it gets to be too much, we'll understand, you know that, right? If you need . . ."

Riley smiled. "Regular earbuds cut down on some of the noise, and if it gets really bad, I'll retreat, I promise."

"Good," he said quietly, parking the truck in the driveway.

Later, they sat in companionable silence, watching the sunset over the water.

"You know something," she said, "about . . . you're not surprised. That I can hear stuff other people can't. There's more, right? You're thinking there's more."

"Fielding said that your DNA had to be altered, so that you could physically keep up with the demands of the nanotechnology," Steve said. "I didn't think about it, for a while. We were just so glad to get you back from WoFat, and then back from - from Shelburne. But yeah, the other night, when you could hear me - Riley, I'm silent. Not quiet. Silent. It's ingrained, it's habit, and it drives most people crazy. But you could hear me. And when you grabbed that pineapple off the grill -"

"What?" she asked, scrunching her face in confusion.

"You know what, we're going to talk about that another time," he said firmly. "Maybe we'll spar, see if I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah?" she asked, grinning. "Oh, you're on."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley studied the photos of the layered tattoos from the bodies on the dock. Even marred by bullets, she could make out the both the Kkangpae ink and the monastery ink. The work was good, but she knew what she was looking for. Her fingers traced over the photos gently. She hadn't recognized the faces of the men. It was unlikely that they were monks during her time at the monastery. When had they been recruited by the Kkangpae? Before she'd arrived? Or were they new monks, who'd become quickly disillusioned?

 _Your erstwhile protectors._

Riley's hands froze over the photos, and she stood slowly and backed away from the computer. She looked quickly around the perimeter of the room, and stepped to the door.

"Hey," Steve said, stepping back in surprise. His hand was raised to tap on the open door.

"Oh, hey," Riley said. She shook her head ruefully. "I . . . never mind."

"No, something's wrong," he said, wrapping a hand around her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I was . . . the photos of the ink, the monastery ink under the Kkangpae ink. I wish I understood the connection. I feel like maybe it's my fault those men died," she said. That had to be it - guilt. Guilt was making her mind play tricks on her. She dismissed the thoughts firmly and took a deep breath. "So. What's up?"

"Got your roll-out keyboard and cables handy?" he asked, grinning.

"Hell yeah," she replied, her eyes sparkling as she reached for her backpack. "Field trip?"

"Yep, I'll explain on the way."

#*#*#*#*#


	39. Viral 2

A/N: Continuing on despite the detractors who object to the story being all about the OC and the pervasive theme of H/C. Ummmmm . . . okay, but the OC is listed in the description and the genre is H/C so . . . if you don't care for that, I bet there's a TON of other great stories out there that you would enjoy so much more. Read those and write nice reviews for their authors.

That said . . . these characters and this plot are beyond my control and insist on drifting back and back and back into the realm of science-y medical-y fiction. I am the least person ever qualified to write such story lines. I was an English major with a Shakespeare concentration, for heaven's sake. So, if you want to fuss at me for that I will totally understand. I'm exasperated with it myself but I gave up trying to control my muse. The plot line is getting ridiculous. I love intrigue but I feel like I need a spreadsheet . . .

#*#*#*#*#

They made their way to the Keehi Small Boat Harbor on Sand Island, where a team was busy preparing a small boat for launch. Chin and Kono were already there, helping load boxes marked as medical equipment.

"We're leaving the island?" Riley asked, climbing out of the back seat of the Camaro.

"We're escorting this field team from the CDC to one of the remote islands," Steve explained. "There's been an accident, and a team of researchers is trapped inside the building."

Riley patted her backpack. "You need me to get the CDC people into the building."

"Yeah, I'm shocked," Danny said. "For once, he's not using a hand grenade."

Steve shrugged. "They're scientists, Danny. Don't wanna hurt 'em."

The CDC team leader had joined them, and he shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it's too late for that. We just received confirmation: one hundred percent contagion."

"What does that mean, all of the scientists are sick?" Danny asked. "Oh, Riley - this is Dr. Huntington. Dr. Huntington, Riley McGarrett."

"The virus being researched somehow escaped containment, despite best practices," Huntington said, nodding at Riley. "And yes, Detective Williams - all seven of the researchers have been exposed, according to the last communication from the site. Which means we are simply going to render palliative care."

"It's always fatal?" Steve asked quietly. "No chance any of them will make it?"

"None," Huntington said grimly.

"Why the hell do you people cook these things up?" Danny muttered.

"It's a reasonable question," Huntington said. "And in this case, the answer is - we didn't. This is a rare virus found on just a few Pacific islands. It wipes out entire villages. The Navy sent one of their medical relief ships once - the sailors who braved making landfall to try to help were exposed, and died. Their bodies couldn't even be returned to their families. We were trying to find a way to stop this thing, or even prevent it."

"Your people?" Steve asked quietly.

"Symptomatic," Huntington said. "Which is why we can't get into the building. Protocol indicates that it stay locked down. There's no way to override it from the inside. It's a logical fail safe but . . . they're people. Good people. And we're not going to just leave them there to suffer. We're going to administer morphine and oxygen."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Okay, well, let's get you there and get you in."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono helped Riley with her lifejacket, nimble fingers fastening and tightening the straps with ease.

"Hey," Kono said, catching an expression of apprehension on Riley's face. "No one is planning on landing in the water. It's a requirement; we're on the clock and on a government owned vessel. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Riley said, ducking her head.

"Besides, if for some really crazy reason one of us does get dunked, between Steve, Chin, and me - trust me; we've got it covered," Kono reminded her.

Riley grinned at her. "Have you ever been to this island? The one we're going to?"

"Nah," Kono said. "From what Dr. Huntington said when he briefed us, it's strictly a research lab. It's never been open to the public. There's tons of little islands like that around here. Just far enough from the mainland you're not gonna get people paddling to it, you know?"

Riley held on to the railing of the fastboat, turning her face into the salt spray. Steve turned the controls over to Chin and stepped up beside her, grinning.

"You like this? Being out on the open water?" he asked.

"I love it," she said.

He pointed out a pod of dolphins pacing the boat, and she smiled in delight.

"We need to come out sometime," he said. "You, me, and Mary." He stepped away as the boat slowed to approach a sleek, well-maintained dock.

"We have to go in on foot, and it's about an hour's hike," Dr. Huntington said, apologetically. "I can't thank you enough, Commander, for getting us to our people."

Steve hoisted a weathered Navy backpack onto his back. "I understand, sir. If it was my team, I'd feel the same."

There were ten of them, altogether, and the Five-O team started up the trail with weapons readied.

"I hardly think those are necessary," Dr. Huntington said, raising his eyebrows at Kono's rifle.

"Force of habit," Steve said, but Riley noticed that no one put their weapons away.

They'd been walking for about twenty minutes when Steve noticed Riley tilting her head thoughtfully toward the dense foliage surrounding the rudimentary trail.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"Just thought I heard something," she said. "A person. Must not be."

Steve studied her and stood still, listening himself. Nothing - nothing he could hear, anyway. But he wasn't going to dismiss Riley's instincts.

"You hear it again, you tell me," he said. "We'll check it out."

Riley nodded.

A few minutes later, both Steve and Riley stopped abruptly on the trail. She looked at him in question.

"Yeah, heard it," he said tersely.

"What? I didn't -" Danny started, but Steve was holding up his hand. The entire group came to a shuffling stop, and then, there was no mistaking the sound. A low laugh, and a rustle of leaves.

"No one moves but me," Steve said quickly, and just like that, he disappeared into the brush. The rest of them froze; the scientists confused, and the three remaining Five-O team members frustrated at having to stand, inactive, while their leader apparently was tracking . . . well. Someone, or something.

Minutes crawled by, and Danny wondered why he was the only one who seemed to be smacking away insects, as usual. Riley intuitively slowed her breathing, which in turn slowed her heart rate . . . she could hear much more, much further, when she wasn't distracted by the sound of her own pulse. She smothered a smile when she heard Steve's muttered curses and his steps - silent before, comparatively noisy now - headed back toward the group, long before the others could hear his approach. He emerged from the treeline, scowling.

"Who else is on this island?" Steve demanded, toe to toe with Dr. Huntington.

"No one else, not to our knowledge," he insisted.

"Maybe some of your people got out?" Chin asked.

"Their last report was that all team members were accounted for, inside the facility," Dr. Huntington said. "The last two team members to be exposed to the virus weren't even symptomatic yet, and they initiated the lock down protocols. They couldn't open the doors if they tried - that's the point of the lockdown protocol. It seals the building while everyone is . . . in control. And it won't unseal later, regardless."

"What, exactly, do you mean . . . 'in control'?" Danny asked slowly.

"The virus causes fever, delirium," Dr. Huntington said.

"Maybe some locals found their way to the island," Chin suggested. "It would be a good place to hide out. We could have fugitives here . . . people who just wanted to get off the grid. It's not like the research facility is clearly marked."

Steve scowled again and flipped his pack from his back to a rock in front of him. He fished out a cumbersome looking device.

"Looks like the cell phones in those old movies," Kono marveled.

"Old movies?" Danny questioned.

"Yeah, you know - from the eighties," Kono said absently, while Danny and Chin winced.

"Sat phone," Steve murmured, his deft fingers tapping in a series of numbers. He held the handset to his ear. "Cell signal out here is sketchy at best." There was a long pause. "Catherine. I need eyes on these coordinates. We're supposed to be escorting a CDC team on a completely uninhabited island to a research facility that should be locked down. Oddly enough, though, I just tracked someone who I think has been pacing us. What?" A short pause. "No, he rabbited over a waterfall. Well, because I have five scientists I'm responsible for, plus my team." Another short pause, and Steve was rubbing his hand over his face with a sheepish expression. "Yeah, I remember." A low laugh, which made Kono raise her eyebrows and grin wickedly. "Okay, Cath," Steve said hastily, "yeah, thanks. I owe you. No, we don't have . . . I mean, tablets at best . . . send the feed to Jerry. Yes, Jerry, and he can relay it back to us in real time. Yeah. Dinner and a movie? Okay."

"Sleepover and surf lesson in our future," Kono said, winking at Riley.

Steve turned and addressed the group. "There was definitely someone following our group," he said. "Looked to me to be wearing torn and tattered scrubs."

"Our people wear scrub uniforms," Dr. Huntington admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, I take point," Steve said decisively. "Kono, I want you near the center of the group, I need you ready to go to long range rifle shot at any moment. Chin, Danny, cover at the rear. Riley, on my six. I'm going to carry this sat phone, and you're going to communicate with Jerry. Let's keep moving - this section of the trail is completely exposed. We'll stop at that rock cluster ahead and make a decision about continuing, based on what Jerry sees." He tapped another long series of numbers into the phone, then tossed the pack back effortlessly onto his back, and handed the handset to Riley.

"Jerry," Riley said, after a moment. "Yeah, you too. Listen, we're on a . . . an excursion."

Steve nodded in approval.

"Catherine is sending you a live feed," Riley continued. "We don't have monitors available to us; we need you to watch the feed and tell us what you see in real time. Okay, let me know." There was a long pause. "Steve," Riley said, "Jerry has the feed. He sees the island. What is he looking for?"

"Ask if he sees our boat still at the dock, and if there's any activity there," Steve said.

"Jerry, look at the dock. There should be a boat - any activity around it?" Riley relayed. "No," she said, after a moment. "Boat is there, nothing happening."

"Good," Steve said, sighing in relief. "Okay, tell him to look at the facility. Any sign of damage - smoke, debris, anything?"

"Jerry, there's a facility - what?" she stopped. "Oh, okay, that's us. Ten people, that's our group. Ahead of us, there's a facility. Any sign of damage, anything happening?" There was a long pause. "Jerry says nothing - it looks deserted to him. Also, he wants to know if this is where the secret testing on the Tokyo Red Plague is being carried out."

"How?! What - that's - there's no -" Dr. Huntington sputtered.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is the place," Riley said cheerfully. "The CDC guy is wigging out, though, so don't say anything about it." A pause. "Well, I mean, it's supposed to be secret, Jerry. Okay. Thanks." Riley covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Jerry says what else should he be looking for, and he says that all available research still supports a direct head shot as the safest defense against zombies."

"Tell him to look for any activity at all - person, vehicle, anything," Steve said.

"And tell him if he says zombie again I'm going to punch him," Danny added tersely, gripping his SIG tighter and staring into the vegetation.

"Steve says look for activity," Riley repeated. "A person, a vehicle, anything moving, we need to know. Danny's upset. What makes you think - oh, really? Well, no, I'm not familiar with the Tokyo Red Plague, Jerry, because it's supposed to be a secret. Oh. So it's not a very well-kept secret. I'll let Dr. Huntington know."

Riley turned to Dr. Huntington. "Jerry says there's an internet forum devoted to theories about the secret study of the Tokyo Red Plague."

Dr. Huntington groaned.

"But," Riley continued, "they were sure the research facility was CIA - not CDC - and they think it's two islands over. So there's that."

Dr. Huntington stared at Riley until it unnerved her.

"Hey, it's not her fault your top secret facility isn't as secret as you thought," Steve said. "And I don't think you've been entirely forthcoming about this situation, so don't expect any sympathy from me. As far as I'm concerned, we're going to get you to the facility, unlock a door, and that's it. I'm taking my team back to the boat, and we're out of here. You can call the Coast Guard to come pick you up."

Chin glanced at Danny. It wasn't like Steve to not be willing to go out of his way to help . . . well, pretty much anyone. But given the set of Danny's jaw, Steve wasn't the only one who was starting to have doubts about their mission.

"How is this virus spread?" Steve asked, as he lead the team quickly up the trail.

"Direct blood contact only," one of the other scientists spoke up. "I'm a virologist. The virus is contained in human blood. Never airborne, and it doesn't transfer to other bodily fluids."

Steve grunted as he stopped at the expected outcropping of rocks, and everyone sighed in relief as they could take a break from the grueling pace he had set. They pulled out water bottles and sat down or leaned against the rocks.

"If the virus is bloodborne only," Steve said quietly, facing the virologist, "how did it spread so severely as to wipe out entire villages? What are you not telling me? Bloodborne illnesses aren't terribly easy to catch. We learned this in military history and military strategy. This thing would make a lousy chemical weapon."

The virologist hesitated and glanced at Dr. Huntington.

"In its advanced stages," Dr. Huntington said, rubbing his face tiredly, "the virus causes profuse hemorrhaging from the eyes, nose, and ears. It's . . . horrific. And it creates a contamination problem for caregivers. In some of these villages, they simply had zero equipment to prevent contamination. Look, even among those who understand the nature of the virus - my people in that research lab, for example - the urge to try to ease a fellow human's suffering overrides their good judgment. We tried to get to them before it got to this stage, but . . . it's the virus in its purest form. Strongest form. Before we could send relief . . . the first infected had become severely symptomatic."

Steve was silent for a moment, processing.

"Your people," Kono said quietly, "they were taking care of those who were already sick."

Dr. Huntington nodded. "They took every precaution . . . hazmat suits . . . somehow, they still experienced blood exposure."

"How?" Danny asked, crossing his arms. "They knew to avoid the blood, the people who were already sick . . . look, I have something like that, no way am I letting my family or my team anywhere near me. I'd throw myself off the nearest cliff rather than risk exposing my friends."

"Shit," Steve said. "Shit, Danny, you're right. I'd do the same. Any of us would. That guy - he literally jumped over a waterfall. I could've made the jump, easy, but maybe - he may have been trying to keep me from getting too close to him."

"Or he may have stolen some scrubs from an orderly at a mental institution and found his way to this island," Chin pointed out. "There's no way to know."

"Not until we get to the facility and get inside to take a head count," Dr. Huntington said.

Steve nodded tersely. "Let's move."

#*#*#*#*#

They made their way along the trail a bit further.

"I don't like this," Steve murmured, bringing the group to a stop. He pulled the sat phone to his own ear. "Jerry, what do you see?" he asked quietly. The group waited, barely moving, while Steve listened intently. "Jerry, I love you, man, but if you say zombie one more time, I'm going to personally block all internet and cell signal to your house. Indefinitely." There was another long pause. "Noted."

"There's no sign of movement in the facility," Steve said. "Why didn't you tell us that the blood to blood transfer happens when the infected patients become violent and attack their caregivers?"

"I told you - in the advanced stages of the virus, the patients experience high fever and delirium. It's possible that some of them appeared violent," Dr. Huntington explained.

Steve shook his head. "You could have led with that," he said, exasperated.

"Just get us in the building, that's all we've asked," Dr. Huntington said. "We're almost there.

#*#*#*#*#

The young woman sitting in front of the security cameras wiped sweat from her face.

"They're almost here," she said quietly.

"And the subject is with them?" a young man asked.

"Yes. She seems to be sticking close to the Commander." The young woman stood up, shaking. She held the back of the chair for support.

"You need to rest, Jamie," the young man said. "I can do this."

She shook her head. "We have our orders, Paul. They think I'll be able to get closer. It's human nature. I'm obviously frail, physically small. I don't seem to pose a threat. I can get close enough to her."

"They're sure this is the only way?" he asked.

"Everything we know indicates that the Commander is protective, bordering on controlling. She might volunteer, but he would prevent it," she said. She rubbed a hand over her aching lower back. "If I'm lucky, maybe they'll shoot me. I won't suffer. If you're lucky, maybe they'll be able to find the antibodies in time to save you."


	40. Viral 3

The team of scientists and Five-O arrived at the facility without further incident, and Danny heaved a sigh of relief. He made a mental note to give in and start hiking with Steve on a regular basis - this job was always going to involve treks in the jungle, apparently.

Dr. Huntington stepped up to the elaborate keypad and video screen at a small, narrow door. He keyed in a sequence of numbers, and the video screen flared to life in a burst of static. A young woman's face appeared.

"Dr. Huntington," she sighed.

"Jamie," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. How are you and Paul holding up?"

"We're fine for now," she said. "Barely symptomatic; just some fatigue."

"The others?" he asked.

"We've got three in early stages - fever, chills, mild respiratory and cardiac elevation," she said. "And two in . . . well, it's bad."

"We have supplies," Dr. Huntington said. "Oxygen, morphine . . . plenty of morphine, Jamie."

They could see her brush tears from her eyes. "Enough? For all of us?"

"More than enough, for all of you," Dr. Huntington said, his voice breaking. "I'll stay. I don't . . . I'll stay, Jamie. I'll see you and Paul through, I'll initiate the sterilization protocol."

Steve held up a finger, and Dr. Huntington pressed a mute button on the video screen.

"Just so we're clear," Steve said quietly, "you're offering to . . . oversee the final . . . treatment, of their symptoms, and then - what? Burn the place to the ground?"

"Yes," Dr. Huntington said simply. "I'll ensure they do not suffer, and when they've passed, I'll initiate the protocol that incinerates the entire facility."

"How will you get - oh," Steve said. "You don't plan to leave."

"The risk of contagion would be too great," Dr. Huntington said. "This was my facility, my research, Commander. Don't tell me that you don't understand that level of responsibility, because I can see in your eyes that you do."

"You never intended to leave here, did you?" Steve asked.

"No. The last person standing is likely to suffer greatly," Dr. Huntington said, "if they are too confused or disoriented to administer the . . . adequate dosage of morphine. I can't let the last person standing be one of my people."

Steve looked at him for a long moment. "I understand," he said quietly. "Okay, we can get you into the building."

"Steve -" Danny started to protest, but stopped short and sighed. It wasn't like he didn't understand. "I know. I'd do the same if it was our team."

Dr. Huntington released the mute button. "We have someone here who can get us into the building."

"Very unlikely," Jamie said. "I'm afraid you've come this way for nothing. It's impenetrable, and there are so many layers of code, of security . . . even if you'd brought camping gear and worked around the clock, I don't see how . . ."

"Let us worry about that," Chin said, peering briefly over Huntington's shoulder into the camera.

Riley placed her pack on the ground near the control panel and began looking carefully at the device.

"Are all of your people accounted for? Inside the facility?" Steve asked, looking into the small camera.

"Yes," Jamie said, surprised. "Paul and myself are still in the lab. The others are in a quarantine area."

"And you're sure all five are there?" Steve demanded.

"Quite sure," Jamie insisted. "Why do you ask?"

"There was someone, in scrubs, tracking us on the trail," Steve said. "I lost them when they went over a waterfall."

"Oh for crying . . . I'm sorry," Jamie said. "We had a drop shipment of food and new clothing come up missing. We thought animals had destroyed it, but . . . there were times, when we were outside of the facility, that we had a sense that we weren't alone on the island. We asked one of the local ship captains who ferried our supplies for us, and he said there have always been rumors of random people hiding out here."

Riley smiled to herself, thinking of how much Jerry would love this whole scenario - minus, of course, the reality of people actually dying. She had selected a set of cables and was busy connecting a portable keyboard and small screen.

"Are the doors wired with explosives? Gas? Shrapnel?" Riley asked, popping her head up into view of the camera.

"Are the - excuse me?" Jamie asked. At her side, well out of the view of the camera, her hand gestured wildly to Paul. She stalled a minute to buy more time, so that he could get a good look at their objective. "Explosives? What on earth?"

Riley shrugged. "Usually, a place that's this heavily secured, has some sort of physical deterrent, in the event that an operator gets past the codes. Explosives, gas, shrapnel, for example," she listed slowly.

"We . . . no," Jamie said. "I'll let you get to it. I appreciate everyone going to this much trouble, but I really don't think it's going to work." The screen flickered and her image disappeared.

Steve turned his attention to Riley. "Can you break the codes?"

Her fingers were flying over the keyboard. "Hmm, that would be a good question if there were codes to break. In this case, the computer program itself is the only entity which knows the codes."

Steve laughed softly. "I worked with a gunny sergeant once, had a rule for everything. His rule for keeping secrets was, 'best way to keep a secret is keep it to yourself - second best, tell only one other person'."

"Well, the computer operates under the best practice," Riley said. "See, it's a self-generating random sequencer."

"Okay, I get that," Steve said, nodding.

"Right," Riley said, "so what I have to do is circumvent the sequencing program altogether, it's pointless because the self-generating is also self-replicating, so every keystroke triggers another sequence, and without a finite boundary protocol, the possibilities are . . . well, they're literally infinite. And people use that term, but they don't really mean it. What they really mean is, improbably large, possibly impossible to calculate, but ultimately - finite. This, however, is truly infinite."

Steve, with his Naval intelligence training, could follow most of what she was saying, although his brain was scrambling to keep up with her pace. The rest of the group stared at her in amazement.

"So . . . you're saying you can't hack it?" Steve asked.

"Exactly," Riley said. Dr. Huntington's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So, I'm just gonna hotwire it," Riley added cheerfully. "It's going to take me a few minutes, though. This is a really complex system."

Chin leaned against the wall and shook his head as Steve took a moment to stand in the shade with him. "Steve," he said, "you're probably going to want to put some sort of plan in place so that she doesn't ever get . . . bored."

"Yeah," Steve said, staring at his sister with a mixture of fondness and alarm.

#*#*#*#*#

Jamie's heart sank as she heard the massive deadbolt tumbler whirl through an improbable number of turns, and then release. She had secretly hoped that this wunder kid, whoever she really was, would find it impossible to overcome the lockdown protocol. Jamie wrapped her hand around the syringe in her pocket. The young woman had overcome the protocol, though, and she'd been told that in that event, the DNA sequencing and enhancements were still effective, and that this last ditch effort to find a vaccine and cure might just work.

Dr. Huntington sighed in relief - for what everyone assumed was thankfulness that he could alleviate his team's suffering. This was it - his last hope for redeeming his program. When former Director Garrison had contacted him, from his secure rehabilitation center, he'd scoffed at the idea. But after reviewing what had been salvaged of the former Shelburne Project, Dr. Huntington had signed the non-disclosure agreement with the CIA and perpetuated the ruse. And after seeing McGarrett firsthand, he'd understood the absolute necessity for the deception: McGarrett would have simply burned the island to the ground - with Huntington on it - before he'd allowed Riley to serve as a host for the virus.

"I can't believe it," Jamie said, as the door swung open on perfectly balanced hinges.

"Well, we do our job," Steve said tersely. He had placed himself adjacent to the doorway, allowing just enough room for Huntington and the other scientists to slip through. He ignored their gear bouncing off his elbow and hip, and didn't budge. "Huntington, I'll set up a pick-up with the Coasties, provide a way that you can contact them twenty-four seven, when you're ready for your team to be retrieved."

Dr. Huntington locked eyes with Jamie and nodded imperceptibly.

"We have a problem," she said. "Our sick team members are in quarantine area."

"Which is good," Steve said impatiently. "We'll get out of your way so that you can get these supplies to them."

"That's the problem," she said. "Same protocol. Same lock. Same system. Please," she continued, her voice breaking. "I can't bear the thought of Paul and I dying peacefully, while they die -" she broke off. "They're my friends. They're good people."

Steve hesitated and glanced at Chin, Danny, and Kono. They tried to keep their faces impassive, to follow his lead, but he saw the bright shine of tears in Kono's eyes, the sad resignation in Chin and Danny's - what if it were Kono and Chin locked in quarantine, and he and Danny able to help . . .

"Shit," he swore quietly. "Okay. We'll get you in. But you and the other guy - you keep your distance. And you wait until we are clear of here before you actually open that door, understood?"

"Of course, Commander," she said. "Thank you. Thank you so much. It's just right this way."

The hallway was narrow, and Jamie led the way, with Huntington on her heels. Steve and Riley followed.

"Watch them," Steve murmured to Chin, Danny, and Kono, tilting his head toward the scientists who were unpacking and organizing their supplies.

"Understood," Chin nodded.

As the four neared the locked door at the end of the hallway, they could hear . . . sounds. Very disturbing sounds.

"What the hell?" Steve hissed at Dr. Huntington.

"It's the fever," he sighed. "I told you - disorientation, confusion . . . the two first infected are in severe pain by now, and probably confused as to why. You see now why I was so desperate to at least try to administer some pain relief, some sedation."

Steve hesitated, his large frame blocking Riley's progression down the hall.

"Please," Jamie said, her voice breaking again. "That's going to be me and Paul in a few days. I know it, I've accepted it. Please, don't make us listen to that, listen to it get worse, locked out here, helpless, waiting our turn. Please, just unlock the door, so we can at least give them some pain relief. Some measure of dignity in their death."

Steve still hesitated.

"If it was your team," Jamie said, holding out her hands to the door. "Just unlock it. I swear, we won't turn the handle until your entire team is back outside. Surely, she can lock the doors behind you."

Steve sighed and looked at Riley.

"I can reengage the system," she said quietly. "When I do that, though, it will literally fry the circuits. No one, not even me, will be able to open it a second time."

Dr. Huntington nodded, and Steve stepped in front of Huntington, blocking him from Riley, and let Riley slip by him on the other side.

The sounds of horrific suffering of her colleagues had steeled Jamie's resolve, and the moment Riley was within her reach, she struck. Adrenaline fueling her system, she overcame every hint of fatigue and pain, and the jet-injection syringe made contact with Riley's neck in a split second. She depressed the plunger and heard the distinctive hiss.

It was done.

Jamie dropped the syringe and held up her hands, backing flat against the wall, as Riley gasped and raised a hand to her neck.

"What the hell did you do?" Steve roared, his voice echoing down the narrow hallway as he pulled his SIG and shoved it in Jamie's face. "What did you do?"

Riley looked at the door. There was no control panel, no video screen . . . no evidence of a lock.

"Steve," she said quietly, pointing.

"I knew it," Steve ground out. "I knew it, I knew something was off. What the hell did you do to my sister, hunh?" He flicked off the safety of his gun and grabbed the front of Jamie's lab coat, pushing her hard against the wall and holding the gun to her head.

"Commander McGarrett, you do not want to break her skin," Dr. Huntington said, slowly and carefully. "Jamie is infected. You are in no danger, as long as there's no blood exposure, remember? But if you shoot her, or even punch her, here in this narrow hallway, her blood spatters on you, me . . . your sister. So I suggest you put the gun away."

Steve heard the rapidly approaching footsteps of the rest of his team, and reluctantly flicked the safety back on his weapon and holstered it. He turned and put his hands on Riley's shoulders.

"Riley, are you okay? What . . ."

"Riley has been infected with the virus," Dr. Huntington said calmly.

"Don't touch me," Riley said, horrified, trying to get away from Steve. "Stay back, don't touch me, please, Steve, don't get sick."

"Shh, Riley," Jamie said. "You're not contagious. You're no where near contagious. The injection syringe didn't even break the skin, it's tech that MIT has been developing . . . it went straight through your skin, highly pressurized, at a microscopic density. The virus is only bloodborne, and there's zero exposure. Not airborne, not saliva, not urine, not feces." Her voice softened as she looked at the tears streaming down Riley's cheeks. "Not tears."

Chin, Kono, and Danny stood, frozen in horror. The sounds behind the closed door were nightmarish - low moans and broken sobs, with the intermittent shout of confused anger.

Steve looked at the door and back to Dr. Huntington and Jamie. "Why, for the love of God, would you deliberately infect my sister?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Is this . . . are you working for WoFat? Is this revenge?"

"Revenge?" Dr. Huntington said quickly, "No, oh my God, we aren't complete barbarians. As you pointed out, this isn't a weaponized drug."

Kono stifled a sob and reached for Riley, who pulled away, still terrified that she would make others sick.

"Is there enough morphine for me, too, then?" Riley asked, in a quiet voice.

"You don't understand," Dr. Huntington said. "The virus won't kill you. We've studied your DNA, don't you see? You will develop antibodies strong enough to overcome the virus. No one else can, but you are . . . special. You'll be able to. And from those antibodies, we'll develop a cure, and a vaccine . . . it's going to be one of the single most significant breakthroughs in virology -"

Dr. Huntington's eloquent speech was cut short by almost two hundred pounds of angry Navy SEAL throwing him bodily down the hallway.

"Cuff him," Steve yelled, and while Danny and Chin each held a shoulder, Kono had Huntington's wrists slapped in cuffs before he could take another breath.

Steve ignored Riley's soft protests and pulled her against him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, his hand cupping around the back of her head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Riley, I'm so sorry. We'll figure this out, I swear. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. We'll . . . I don't know, they can filter your blood out, transfuse you with mine, something -"

"Noble but unnecessary," Huntington said. "She's not going to die. Her DNA and her physiology is enhanced."

"We killed the nanobytes," Steve yelled desperately. "She doesn't heal like that anymore."

"No, but many of the enhancements are hardwired in her DNA. They were never dependent on the nanobytes," Dr. Huntington said. "Surely you know this much."

Steve took a deep breath. "We were told that her body had to be strong enough to tolerate what the nanobytes could do."

"Exactly," Dr. Huntington said. He sounded as if he were in a lecture hall, not handcuffed in the hallway of a research facility, with ghastly sounds echoing around them. "The virus won't kill her. But we need to move quickly. Because of her enhanced DNA and physiology, she's likely to start exhibiting symptoms on an accelerated timeline."

"Symptoms?" Danny growled, giving Huntington a good shake. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Huntington looked at them as if they were being deliberately obtuse. "Fever. Chills. Joint and muscle pain. I've listed the symptoms several times."

"It won't kill me," Riley said quietly. "He said it wouldn't kill me. He didn't say it wouldn't make me sick."

Steve pushed her hair away from her face and looked at her anxiously. "How sick?" he growled.

Dr. Huntington shrugged. "We will, of course, do what we can to mitigate the worst of the symptoms. It's difficult to say, her metabolic rate is abnormal, obviously."

"I would stop talking," Chin said quietly, taking note of Steve's growing rage.

"How sick?" Steve asked Jamie through clenched teeth.

"They'll give her morphine," Jamie said quietly. "They promised me . . . I'm so sorry, Commander."

He stopped short at her use of his title. She'd used it before. "You knew," he said. "You knew all along, that's why you had the syringe. You called me Commander, before we even breached the . . . you played along with this whole god-forsaken plan."

"I've watched this virus wipe out entire families," she said. "If we can get a cure, a vaccine . . ."

Steve looked back at Dr. Huntington. "Playing God, aren't you? What are you, really? CIA? SAD?"

"CDC," Dr. Huntington said.

Steve scoffed.

"Working under the oversight of CIA project manager Garrison," Dr. Huntington continued.

The team fell into shocked silence.

"He's in a secure rehabilitation unit," Dr. Huntington said. "A burn specialty unit."

"If Garrison survived, then Shelburne may have survived," Riley said quietly.

"I don't know about any of that," Dr. Huntington said, "but I do know that if you want to get Riley back to the CDC on Honolulu before she starts exhibiting symptoms, we should move quickly."

"No!" Riley shouted. "No, you can't take me back onto the island. You have to leave me here, Steve, you have to. And get Catherine . . . she can drop a sidewinder on the facility, or something, you can't -"

"There is a highly sophisticated, completely secure isolation lab at the old Coast Guard station on the Kure Atoll," Dr. Huntington said. "They are fulled equipped and prepared. They're waiting for us."

"Jamie is sick," Riley said, and if the situation hadn't been so dire, Danny would have been amused at the similar set of Riley's jaw. Enhanced or not, there was no denying she shared Steve's DNA. "She should come, too."

"I can't," Jamie said gently, smiling at Riley. "But maybe . . . maybe they'll find something. In time."

"Then we should hurry," Riley said quietly, squaring her shoulders.

Steve stared at her for a moment.

"They've really not left us any other options," she said. "We both know it. Unless you want to reconsider my original idea - leave. Leave me here. Get Catherine to call in a - a strike, or whatever."

"Even if you could convince the Navy to do that," Dr. Huntington said, "what a waste. What a waste of life, of talent . . . of potential."

"Shut up, you miserable son of a bitch," Steve ground out, glaring at him. "We've heard enough of that rhetoric to last us a lifetime." He looked helplessly at Danny.

"I think we have to take her to that place, babe," Danny said. "If she's been exposed, infected -"

"She has," Jamie said softly. "I wouldn't lie. It's . . . she's our only chance."

"Then, unfortunately, they hold all the cards," Danny said. Chin and Kono nodded. "They're the only ones that can help her."

"I just want to take her home," Steve said.

"No," Riley protested. "I'll get sick and I'll give it to you and kill you. Let them take me away. You and the others, go back. Go back to the palace, to your lives, to . . . it's - it's no good. I'm no good. I can't do normal life, normal people. Even before the virus, I'm . . . lethal. This is for the best." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Let them take me."

"They're not taking you away from me," Steve said. "You're not going anywhere without me."

"Goes for the rest of us," Kono said firmly, lifting her chin.

"A helicopter is coming for us," Dr. Huntington said. "There's only room for me and Riley."

"Fuck there is," Steve growled. He turned to Chin. "You'll get the pilot back to wherever he needs to go. You get the governor up to speed, because once Riley is okay, I am going after Garrison, and whoever else is pulling all these strings, and I'm ending this. They're not going to do this to her, she's not a damn lab rat."

"Understood," Chin said.

"Come'ere," Danny murmured, reaching out and hugging Riley close despite her protests. "You're gonna be okay, kid. Knock that virus and save the world, yeah?"

#*#*#*#*#

The helo pad was on the flat roof of the facility. Steve had steadfastly refused to allow Dr. Huntington to be released from the handcuffs, so the entire team trudged up and waited.

"Call Catherine, just in case I can't," Steve said, looking at Danny. "Maybe she can do something through Naval channels. The program was disavowed, there's no way Garrison should still be able to do this. I can't . . . I can't believe this is sanctioned, so he must be off the reservation."

"We'll find everything we can," Danny assured him. "Look after Riley, we'll take care of everything."

"Mary," Steve said softly. "Danny, should we call Mary?"

"You're being ridiculous," Dr. Huntington said. "I've told you, the girl is going to be just fine. The virus will run its course, she'll -" He stopped short as Steve stepped into his personal space and glowered down at him.

"I'll call Mary," Danny said. "If we need to send for her, I'll get Catherine to help."

"I'll go talk to Jerry," Kono said. "He's going to be worried."

"And curious," Riley added, managing a smile.

Steve nodded, satisfied with the plan, as the sound of approaching rotors caught their attention. The pilot settled the massive machine onto the roof expertly, and made no move to exit. Steve ducked under the rotors and approached, with Danny and Chin shoving Dr. Huntington after him. Steve wrenched open the pilot's door.

"I'll be going along," Steve said.

"Sorry, man, it's a tight fit for three, no extra passengers," the pilot drawled, moving to pull the door closed.

Steve's hand wrapped around the door frame. "Good thing I can take your seat then. Put in the coordinates and get out."

The pilot glanced at Dr. Huntington, who nodded tersely. "These gentlemen will get you back to Oahu."

"Okay," the pilot said, taking off his headset, "but I expect full payment."

"I expect you might get drop kicked off this building," Danny said. "I'd get out of the way and shut up, if I were you."

"Okay, uncuff him and shove him in the back," Steve said, walking back toward Riley. He reached her in a few long strides, standing with Kono.

"See you soon," Kono said firmly, wrapping her long arms around Riley.

Steve took Riley's hand as they walked toward the helicopter. She ducked instinctively at the same time he did, and he remembered that she'd spent a great deal of time with Frank. He saw her eyes moving over the helicopter wistfully, and an idea came to him.

"Wanna fly her?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise, then grinned. "Yeah. Can we have fun with the asshole?"

"They're smiling, why are they smiling?" a nervous Dr. Huntington asked, as Chin and Danny shoved him unceremoniously into the back.

"For a reason that does not bode well for you, I am sure," Chin said.

"Have a safe flight, you miserable son of a bitch," Danny added cheerfully.

#*#*#*#*#

"Nicely done," Steve said, as Riley bounced the helicopter to a skidding landing.

"Oh my God," Dr. Huntington moaned in the back seat. "Let me out, I'm gonna be sick."

"Sorry about the landing," Riley said. "I'm rusty. Haven't flown in . . . wow, years."

Steve hauled their beleaguered passenger out of the back, thumping him soundly on the shoulder. "She's talented, isn't she? You knew that, of course, you know everything there is to know about her. I swear to God, I should've let her drop you right out of the back into the Pacific."

Dr. Huntington staggered away from the helicopter toward a group of lab-coated individuals waiting at the edge of the landing area.

Riley fought off a wave of dizziness as she climbed out of the pilot's seat and carefully replaced the headset. She tried to chalk it up to the rough landing, and she closed her eyes and leaned against the open doorframe, waiting for it to pass.

"Hey," Steve's voice was soft behind her, just barely carrying over the sound of the slowing rotors. "Look, I can fly you to Pearl, see if -"

"No," she said, turning quickly. It proved to be a mistake, and she clutched desperately at the door as the world tilted wildly around her.

"I've got you," Steve said, his strong hands catching her at her elbows.

"No, we can't go anywhere else, it's not safe," she said. "Promise me you won't let them use me as a weapon. I don't leave this island unless it's to take back a cure or a vaccine. Understood? And you don't get exposed to it. If that means you need to leave me here, and go, that's what you do."

"Riley, I can't -"

"Yes, you can," she said firmly. "You can and you will, because you are not going to leave Mary. You understand me? You will not do that to her, Steven."

He had to smile. "Yes, ma'am. But it's not going to come to that. Dr. Huntington may be an asshole but I'm sure he's right about the science. You're going to be fine, and there'll be a cure and maybe even a vaccine."

"Okay, let's admit it," Riley said. "We're both more than a little curious about the science."

Steve stared at her, emotions warring across his face. He never would have chosen this for her - never would have considered offering her - but in the absence of choice . . .

"A little," he admitted.

"You liked science, in school," she said. "You were good at it. I . . . your report cards were in the photo albums, Mary . . ."

"I liked science," he said. "Studied it at Annapolis, too, as my electives."

"Shelbur -" she stopped. Her face softened. "Olivia, when she was Olivia, taught me as much science as my brain could hold. She knew . . . maybe she even knew this was coming. So, I'm a little bit interested . . . this could work, Steve. If I can survive the virus, if they can replicate the antibodies . . . this could work. And maybe even in time to save Jamie."

"Okay," he sighed. "If you're sure."

"There really isn't another option, other than you taking me and dropping me off at the mountain house, and then dropping a sidewinder on top of it," she said seriously. "That's the only other option I can think of. And we don't know how fast this is going to progress, and what if I started bleeding on the way there, and you were exposed? So I think we're down to this because -" she stopped as another wave of diziness washed over her. "Because I think it's progressing pretty fast, actually."

He started to lift her into his arms, but she protested.

"No. I'm walking in under my own power, anyway," she said, and they started walking toward the cluster of people who, to Steve's surprise, had kept a respectful distance. "And no hospital gowns. Sweats, or scrubs, but not one of those blasted gowns. I hate those. And the jiggly stuff. The green flavor. Rebecca always made sure I had -" she stopped, her voice breaking.

"Riley," Steve said helplessly. "Tell me what I can do . . ."

"And a laptop," she continued, forcing her voice to be strong and level. "I want a laptop, until I get goofy, and then take it away from me so I don't do anything stupid. Although I could move money, a lot of money, into everyone's accounts, if you wanted, and then if it was ever questioned, you could say I was delirious?"

"Riley -" Steve said, shaking his head. They'd arrived at the edge of the landing pad and could hear Dr. Huntington launching into instructions with the group clustered around him.

"Shut up," Steve said. "Which of you is the doctor? The medical doctor."

"I'm Dr. York," a young woman said, timidly raising her hand.

Steve nodded gratefully. She reminded him of Rebecca, that was good. "Okay," he said, gentling his tone. "She's already starting to feel dizzy, so I guess we really don't have any choice but to cooperate with you at this point."

Dr. Huntington started to say something, and Steve silenced him with a violent poke to the center of his chest.

"I told you to shut up," Steve said. "You may think you're in charge of the science, but I can assure you, you are not in charge of Riley. And she's pretty much the only priority I have here, so this is how it's going to go."

He turned back to Dr. York. "She will not wear one of those damn hospital gowns. Sweats or scrubs. She wants green jello, she knows it stays down when she's sick. She's not here as your lab rat. I find out you're doing anything - anything - other than taking care of her, and looking for antibodies for this virus, I will get her clear and I will burn this place to the ground. And then God have mercy on your souls, because I won't. We clear?"

The entire group nodded vigorously.

"And one of you, get her a laptop," Steve ordered.

His hand was warm on Riley's back as they walked toward the low, cinderblock building. He hoped that the slight tremor he could feel in her muscles meant that she didn't notice that his hand was shaking.


	41. Viral 4

"Tell me this," Steve demanded, facing down Dr. York, "how do I even know she's actually sick? That this isn't just some demented plan of the CIA and the SAD to get their . . . their subject back?"

Dr. York opened and closed her mouth helplessly as she tried to think of what to say. "I don't . . . I guess we could run a blood test, let you see the results yourself?"

"Steve," Riley said softly, her hand on his wildly gesturing arm. "Steve, it's ok. They aren't lying about me being sick."

Steve stopped and looked at her again. Her hand on his arm was trembling, and he could see her skin paling further.

"This is our option now, Steve," Riley said. "We see this through."

Steve grabbed her in a fierce hug, cradling her head against his shoulder, then reluctantly allowed Dr. York and a nurse take her to get settled.

Dr. Huntington found himself pressed against the dingy hallway, Steve's arm against his windpipe, his feet an inch off the ground.

"Straight answers, or I swear to God, I'll end you right here," Steve said. His tone was flat and unemotional, and Dr. Huntington was more terrified than he had been at the ranting and gesturing. He nodded, his eyes wide with fear and bulging a bit from the pressure on his windpipe.

"Are those scientists back there even sick?" Steve demanded.

"They are," Dr. Huntington said. "All of them. This team, this facility, is Plan B. The original plan was to have Riley . . . treated at that location. When the team was exposed, and then succumbed to the virus, we had to set up another team, and another facility."

"But the story, the set-up . . ." Steve said, his agile mind catching on quickly.

"Would have been the same either way," Dr. Huntington confirmed.

"You knew I'd go against my better judgment," Steve said. "You played me."

"We have extensive dossiers on your entire family, and to a lesser extent, your team," Dr. Huntington said. "Suffice to say, you're a compassionate lot, and your team is like family. There's not much you wouldn't do for each other: take a bullet, take a shot . . . This whole process will go smoothly with your cooperation. Had we tried to take Riley by force, there would have been far more collateral damage."

Steve processed what Dr. Huntington said quickly.

"I have zero issue with you being collateral damage," Steve said. "Keep that in mind. Garrison. He made it out of the bunker?"

"More or less," Dr. Huntington said.

"What about others?" Steve demanded.

"I only know this project," Dr. Huntington insisted. "And only what I need to know for this project. Nothing more. I'm sorry. I can't help you."

#*#*#*#*#

"Catherine, it's Danny."

Catherine stood up behind her desk. Danny was obviously distraught.

"Danny, what is it? What's happened?" Catherine asked, her heart in her throat.

"Catherine, they took Riley; they injected her with a virus and -"

"Danny, slow down," Catherine begged. "Who? Who has Riley?"

"I think - I think maybe the CIA? Garrison. Garrison survived the explosion, and . . . we thought we were leading a team of CDC scientists to get to a facility so that Riley could override the computer, you know, and get them inside, and . . . it was a set-up. They injected her with a virus, a fatal -" his voice broke.

"Danny, no," Catherine gasped.

"They think she'll survive, you know, because of the DNA alterations, and they want the antibodies -" Danny broke off. "But we could hear, the other scientists, the ones who got infected, and -"

Catherine's hands were already flying over her keyboard. "Okay, I'm on it, Danny," she said. "I'll find out everything I can. Where is she now? Where's Steve?"

"An old Coast Guard station on the . . . the Kure Atoll," Danny said. "Steve made the pilot come back with us so that he could go with Riley. He . . . he let her fly the chopper."

"Danny . . ." Catherine whispered. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry. Should we go? I can probably get clearance, I can check -"

"I don't know, Catherine," Danny said. "Riley is . . . she's terrified of exposing us. I don't know if they're going to a CDC facility, or CIA, or SAD . . . see what you can find out. I can't stand the thought of Steve there, alone, what if -"

"Danny, don't go there," Catherine said. "Let me see what I can find out. I'll call you back as soon as I know anything."

"Okay," Danny said, running a shaking hand through his already disheveled hair. "I - I have to call Mary."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was still glaring at Dr. Huntington when Dr. York appeared in the hallway.

"Um, sir?" she said, timidly. "We have . . . she's . . . your sister - she's settled, if you'd like to be with her."

Steve turned away and followed her down the hall.

"What kind of doctor are you?" he asked, gruffly.

"I'm a virologist," she said, "but I as originally trained and still practice internal medicine."

"The last time you people got your hands on Riley, she had a nurse. A wonderful nurse," Steve said. "Who's actually taking care of her, right now?"

"I'll be providing her primary care," Dr. York said. She lifted her shoulders and dared a glance at Steve. "I'm good at what I do, sir."

He stared at her a moment. "Commander McGarrett. Steve."

She nodded as they paused in front of a closed door. "She's symptomatic now, but not contagious. We'll have to use extreme caution, of course, when we start to take blood samples."

"How symptomatic?" Steve asked. "Those scientists, back at the facility, they sounded . . ."

"We hope she'll be strong enough, it won't get to that," Dr. York said quickly.

"But you don't know," Steve said.

"We know it presents like your standard influenza, at first," she said. "And that's where we are now. We . . . we're trying to keep her comfortable, but you see, the fever . . . we don't want to suppress the fever, not more than we have to, because it's in the presence of the fever that she'll develop more antibodies more quickly."

"You're going to just let her suffer," Steve said flatly. "And I'm going to watch. That's what you're trying to tell me."

"The instant her blood tests positive for the antibodies, we will aggressively treat the fever," Dr. York said. "And we'll try to treat the other symptoms."

"Which will be?" Steve asked, steeling himself for the answer.

"You've had the flu, I'm sure," Dr. York said. "Probably an exotic one."

Steve raised an eyebrow at her.

"Riley is a typical younger sister," she said. "She's proud of your service in the Navy."

"Columbia, once," Steve said. "Thought I'd die. Would've preferred it, at one point. You're telling me we're going to stand and watch while she . . ."

"We'll do our best," Dr. York said softly. "You ready?"

Steve wondered why she put it that way; of course, he was ready to join Riley. Then, she pushed open the door, and he understood. Riley was unmistakably sick; her eyes glassy with fever, her skin pale, her lips already cracked. The cardiac monitor next to her bed showed an elevated heart rate.

"You people have no souls," Steve said quietly, looking down at Dr. York. "You know that, right? You seem nice enough, but . . . to do this. And things like this. If there's any humanity left in you, I suggest you find a way out."

Dr. York looked down, unable to meet Steve's gaze for the moment.

"Hey, kid," Steve said, smiling gently at Riley. "I hope you feel better than you look."

"You know," Riley said, forcing a smile back, "I don't normally primp, but I think when I get out, a hair cut is in order. Maybe even a manicure."

"Now I know you're delirious," Steve teased gently. "When you get better, I'll give Kono a day off, and the two of you can spend the whole day at one of those spas."

"Deal," Riley said. She closed her eyes. "Making antibodies is exhausting."

Steve pulled a chair up next to her bed. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere, Riley. Rest."

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine's commanding officer handed her the file with an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant," he said. "I wish I could refute what you've found so far, but all of my inquiries led to the same conclusion: the CIA sanctioned this . . . operation of the CDC. They're operating with full immunity and means."

Catherine tossed her computer mouse down, disgusted.

"Lieutenant, may I remind you that Five-O also operates with immunity and means?" the officer pointed out.

"Yes, well, they may take that liberty to use some unorthodox methods, but they would never - never - deliberately and knowingly inject a young woman with a deadly - a fatal - virus," Catherine protested. "Never."

"And if they had asked Riley?" he asked.

"She probably would have volunteered," Catherine said.

"Ah. And if they had asked Commander McGarrett?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" Catherine sighed. "There's nothing you can do? Nothing at all?"

He smiled at her. "I did manage one thing . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Riley wandered the halls of the monastery, unsure of why she was there, or how she'd arrived. It was quiet, and dark, and that was nice. Her head didn't hurt as badly, in the dim light. Frank had brought her here one other time, after she'd failed one of Joe's training sessions. Had that happened again? Had she failed another training session?

There was a nice voice, a voice that she knew she trusted, assuring her that she hadn't failed. That was good. And something else . . . oh. The voice wanted to know what kind of training session.

"Climbing," she explained drowsily. "I misjudged the foothold, and fell. Joe said . . . said I'd heal, learn my lesson, wouldn't fall next time. Frank . . . Frank yelled. Said it was . . . inhumane. Brought me to the monks. They fixed it."

A hand brushed her hair away from her face. The gesture was gentle, but the hand had calluses. Gun calluses, like . . . like Frank's. And someone else, since. The hands that went with the voice. Good hands, she remembered that. Very good hands, from another time . . . an image of her arm, flayed open and bloody, came back to her, and those hands, pressing, holding . . .

"Steve," she remembered.

"I'm here," the voice said. The good voice matched up with the good hands, and belonged to Steve. Her brother, her very own brother, and no one could take him away from her, now that she'd found him.

"That's right," the Steve-voice assured her. "I'm not going anywhere. What did the monks fix?"

"The bones," she said. "Put them back."

"Like . . . relics?" the Steve-voice was confused, and she thought it was funny.

"No, my bones," she murmured. "The hipbone connected to the . . . shoulder bone connected to the . . . arm bone," she hummed. "Frank said, it was a song. All the bones connected. Mine were disconnected." She frowned. That wasn't right.

"Dislocated?" the Steve-voice prompted softly. "Your hip and shoulder were dislocated?"

"Hmm," she nodded, managing to crack open her eyes. "Hi."

"Hey," Steve whispered. "I'm so sorry. I know that hurt."

"Mmm," she agreed. "Like now."

"Riley," Steve whispered. "Let me get them to give you something more, okay?"

"Mmm," she nodded. "Monks did . . . something. Helped. A spring. In a cave . . . warm. Can we go? Please?"

"Honey, no, I'm sorry," Steve said. "But I'll ask for something warm."

She tried her hardest not to cry when Steve moved away, just like she'd tried her hardest not to cry when Frank had left her with the monks. But there were rules, and Frank couldn't stay. He had to trust them. Maybe there were rules, and Steve had to trust - no.

"No," Riley whispered. She tried to open her eyes, tried to surface from the haze of sedative. No, she knew beyond a doubt that Steve didn't trust the people she was with now. And yet, he left. He left her with people that he didn't trust. A tear escaped her half closed eyes, and then another, until there was a little trail disappearing into her hair and dampening her pillow.

"Hey," Steve murmured, his fingertips brushing at the corners of her eyes. "Hey, I'm right here."

"You don't trust these people," Riley whispered. "But you left me."

"Big picture, little picture," Steve said. "The people in this room are here to try to make you feel better. It's okay. I'm not going to leave. I just went to ask the doctor for something for the pain."

"You're hurt?" Riley asked, trying to open her eyes more.

Steve chuckled. "No, Riley, for you. She'll be here in just a minute."

"Monks stuff works best," Riley pointed out. "But . . . okay. You . . . you check it."

"Okay," Steve assured her, as Dr. York came back into the room.

"What are you checking?" she asked Steve quietly.

"I'm checking to make sure that you're giving Riley the right stuff," Steve said. Dr. York held out the IV bag for his inspection.

"'S'okay?" Riley mumbled.

"Mmmhmm," Steve said. "It's Demerol. I've used it."

"This will help alleviate the pain," Dr. York said, "even though it's not really going to address the fever that's causing the pain."

"God forbid," Steve muttered, as the medication was added to Riley's IV.

The door opened again, and Steve caught a glimpse of someone coming in, carrying a blanket.

"And a nice warm blanket," Dr. York said. "Normally, we wouldn't use this . . . but -"

"But you don't give a damn about her fever," Steve said flatly. "Hey, maybe a nice hot blanket will jack it up a couple more degrees, get you what you wanted even faster."

He reached out to take the blanket, and looked at the person carrying it for the first time.

"Catherine . . . how did -"

"Hey, sailor," Catherine said. "Guess who pulled a Special Activities Division assignment?" She smiled up at him as they carefully draped the blanket over Riley.

"Hi, Riley," Catherine said. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I can be here with you and Steve until you're better."

"Thanks f'the blanket," Riley murmured, closing her eyes.

"Cath, how did you manage this?" Steve said, wrapping his arms around her slim frame, uniform and rules regarding public displays of affection be damned.

"My commanding officer and I turned over every stone we could. This is a sanctioned operation, Steve, I'm so sorry. We can't even prosecute . . . but, we could insist that Naval Intelligence assign a liaison to ensure that only the sanctioned research is carried out - not one extra cell or blood sample is to be taken, not one x-ray or CT scan - anything not immediately and directly related to developing a cure and vaccine for this virus is off-limits. I'm here to enforce that. With my own set of immunity and means," she added.

"Catherine, it's Garrison." Steve spat out the name.

"I know," she said quietly, with a glance at Riley.

Steve tamped down firmly on his anger. "You have intel that you can share on Garrison?"

"Files will be sent," she said, pulling a compact tablet out of one of the pockets of her uniform pants. "But it's sketchy at best. We know he survived. We know he's acting as a . . . consultant for this operation."

"Any word . . . " Steve let the sentence trail off.

"No," Catherine said softly. "Nothing. But if he survived . . ."

"Yeah," Steve said, his voice hoarse with fatigue and emotion. "We knew there would be a chance, but to know that anyone made it out . . ."

Riley stirred and a soft whimper escaped.

"Shh, it's okay," Steve said, brushing his fingertips across her cheek. "God, she's burning up." He turned to Dr. York. "Can you get the antibodies now? She has a fever."

"It usually takes at least twenty-four hours to begin to develop antibodies," Dr. York explained. "And she's only had a fever for about two."

"But you said the virus was progressing much faster than usual," Steve argued.

"I'm telling you, it's too soon," Dr. York said, standing her ground. Commander McGarrett was big, and scary, but she knew the medicine. "I can bring Dr. Harrington in to give his input, if you like."

"Keep him the hell away from this room," Steve said. He kept his voice low, but the edge was unmistakable.

"It's too soon, I'm sorry," Dr. York said. Her tone was genuinely sympathetic. "And I'm sure you understand - we don't want to handle any more blood samples than absolutely necessary. But we will start checking at eight hours. Okay?"

Steve nodded morosely. "She's confused, and in pain. Is there anything more you can do for her?"

"I'm sorry, Commander," Dr. York said. "At this point, we need to just let the virus run its course until we have antibodies. Believe it or not, letting the body use fever as an antiviral is an approach used even in mainstream medicine. Western medicine is so quick to try to eliminate every symptom . . . but by reducing her fever, we not only slow down the production of antibodies, we slow down her recovery."

"What if it gets just too high? Couldn't that be fatal?" Steve worried.

"That's a valid concern," Dr. York said. "And we would take action, I assure you. Generally speaking, this virus hasn't caused fevers that high. Can you hang in there? I think this is harder for you than for her."

Steve smiled despite his frustration. "You're probably right. I just . . . this was a despicable act, you know that. Damn it, if you'd just asked her . . . she probably would have held out her arm and volunteered."

"Not my call, Commander," Dr. York reminded him quietly. "I'm here to take the best care of her I can, while trying desperately to prevent this from killing others. We're all dealing with the situation we've been handed at this point."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm taking my frustration out on you . . ."

"Hey, you don't have me in a choke hold against the wall," Dr. York said, shrugging. "I count my blessings. We're going to be in for a bit of a long haul. I'm going to try to catch forty winks on a cot. There are comfortable chairs in Riley's room. I suggest you and the . . . Lieutenant try to get some rest as you're able, as well."

Steve nodded as she left the room, and turned his attention back to Riley. He watched, smiling, as Catherine sat next to Riley, holding her hand and gently and carefully rubbing the scar on the inside of her arm. He slipped behind Catherine and wrapped his hands around her shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispered, as he bent and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for coming."

"I couldn't get clearance for any of your team," she said. "You know they all wanted to come. I couldn't even get clearance to give them updates - I had to just tell them that no news was good news."

"Mary?" he murmured.

"Danny was going to call her," Catherine said. "They are obligated to get her here if . . . well. If there were to be a need. The CDC seems pretty damn confident that there won't be, so we'll hang on to that. You look exhausted, Steve, why don't you try to rest, just a bit? She seems calm for now."

Steve agreed, reluctantly, and settled into the chair on the other side of the room. Exhausted, and content with the knowledge that Catherine was watching over Riley, he fell into a troubled doze.


	42. Viral 5

Dr. Huntington cornered Dr. York in the hallway, looming over her.

"We need to get an MRI and a CT scan, at the minimum," he insisted. "We need to know just how badly the amygdala was damaged during that seizure. If she is compromised in differentiating between fear and anger, that research could be invaluable. Think of the applications. It's a simple MRI, there's not even a need for contrast."

"That's going to be difficult," she said, squaring her shoulders. "McGarrett will balk, and the Navy sent an SAD / Naval Intel liaison to supervise. She's going to demand a reason."

"Give them a reason then," he said. "Make something up."

"I'm not comfortable lying about this," Dr. York said. "I am here for the antibodies, no one said anything about further exploration."

"Oh, you've grown a conscience," Dr. Huntington sneered. "Clearly, you're in the wrong line of work."

#*#*#*#*#

She could hear murmured conversation. In the absence of distinct words, the idea of an MRI filtered through the fog of pain, fever, and drugs and registered in Riley's consciousness. She remembered having an MRI before. Something bad happened to Steve when she had an MRI. She couldn't remember what, just now, but the two things seemed inextricably connected. Her brain busily sorted through the logic of the problem, dismissing the nagging feeling that something was impaired.

 _Having an MRI. Something bad happening to Steve._

 _MRI. Steve being sick, hurt._

 _MRIs hurt Steve._

 _They're trying to kill Steve._

Catherine saw Riley's eyes blink open. She set aside the tablet she'd been using to review files, and stood up, leaning slightly over the bed. Riley's hazel eyes locked on hers, and she felt a chill go up her spine.

Something was very, very wrong. The eyes staring into hers didn't look familiar, at all . . . and she instinctively knew it wasn't fever.

"Steve," Catherine said, keeping her voice low and non-threatening. She knew Steve would be instantly, fully awake.

She was correct. He didn't stand immediately, didn't move, really. But his eyes opened and focused on Catherine, who was backing away slowly from Riley's bed.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

"Not sure," Catherine said. Riley's eyes were following her slow movement. "I'm not sure that she recognizes me, Steve, and I'm pretty sure she's sizing me up as a threat. See if you can come over. Slowly."

Steve unfolded himself slowly from the chair, extending his body to his full height. He took a few silent steps until he was standing next to Catherine.

"Riley," he said, "honey, do you know where you are?"

"Huntington is working for Garrison. Garrison was with Shelburne. Under the ground. They mean to kill you with the MRI machine. I'll stop them," she said. She looked down at the IV, secured in a sophisticated layer pressure sealed bandages.

"Riley," Steve said, instinctively pushing Catherine behind him. "Please don't take that out. You are really sick, and it's a blood borne virus. If you unseal that IV port, you're going to expose me, and Catherine, and some people who really don't deserve to get sick."

She looked up at him, her eyes glinting.

"I'm telling the truth, Riley," he said quietly. "You can trust me."

"Take her and get away," Riley said. "Far away. So you don't get sick."

"Can't do that, Riley," he said. "Can't leave you."

"You could," she said. "Everyone else has. Shelburne. Joe. Even WoFat. Left me. Told me to listen to you die. Everyone leaves. You can leave, protect her. Don't get sick."

"I won't leave," Steve said. "Let's say that I could. I won't. I won't choose to leave you. And I don't think you'll choose to expose me to the virus."

"No," Riley sighed. "I'll think of another way."

"Another way to do what, Riley?" Steve asked. "What do you need to do?"

"Kill them," Riley said flatly. "Kill them all before they kill you and do . . . do things to me again." She started cooly looking at her surroundings, and Steve could easily imagine what was going through her mind.

Because he knew what would be going through his. IV catheter, bandage scissors, oxygen tank . . . all things that could be used as weapons.

"Riley," he said firmly. "You are very sick, and you're getting some things confused. Garrison isn't here, we aren't underground. Shelburne isn't here. You're infected with a virus, but they think you can fight it, build antibodies, because your DNA is special. They could create a cure, a vaccine. They tricked you into doing it, but you want to help with the cure and the vaccine. No one has mentioned an MRI. I think you're remembering that from a while back." He looked over his shoulder at Catherine. "Get the doctor," he murmured.

Catherine slipped quietly from the room and waved Dr. York over. Dr. Huntington walked away from her with a warning glance.

"Everything okay?" Catherine asked, watching the angrily retreating form.

"Yes, just discussing a course of treatment," Dr. York said quickly. "How is the subject?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice taking on an edge. "Riley - the subject - is delirious. You need to do something. She was eyeing up her IV, and Steve had to talk her down from ripping it out."

"That can't happen," Dr. York said earnestly. "It risks exposure."

"Then I suggest you do something," Catherine said. "He may not be able to talk her down if it happens again."

They hurried back to the room, and opened the door quietly. Steve was sitting on a rolling stool next to Riley's bed, his hands rubbing absently over the scar on her forearm. Not by coincidence, his gentle touch was restraining her good hand. Her eyes were glazed with fever and pain, but when Dr. York entered the room, they seemed to glow with white-hot fury.

"If you let her take me, you better run fast and far," she growled at Steve. "Because after I finish them, I'll come for you."

"Riley," Steve whispered, shocked. "I'm not going to let them take you. I -" He stopped, shaking his head.

"Fascinating," Dr. York murmured. She made rapid notes in the chart.

"What do you mean, fascinating?" Catherine demanded. "She's clearly delirious. Can't you do something?"

"She's not delirious, she's terrified," Dr. York said. "Absolutely terrified, and it's triggering the damaged part of her amygdala. She should be flinching and whimpering, and instead . . . I'm sorry, but I've read her chart, and this is - well, it's absolutely fascinating."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Steve gritted out. Riley's eyes were scanning the room in cold calculation again.

Dr. York stood at the foot of Riley's bed. "Are you frightened? Of the virus, of being sick? Or of us, being in this facility? Your brother is with you, doesn't that make you feel safe? He can protect you."

"He won't need to," Riley said. "If I don't kill you, the virus will."

Catherine gasped softly, reaching for Steve. She couldn't imagine what he felt, seeing Riley like this. Cold. Threatening.

"The seizure," Dr. York said, glancing at Steve. "There was a seizure?"

"Yeah," Steve said. He wasn't going to give away any more information.

"You were told that it damaged the bilateral amygdala, the part of her brain that regulates fear and anger?" Dr. York prompted.

Steve thought for a moment, trying to remember. There had been so much - but he did remember, at Tripler . . . "Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yes, we were told that."

"That's what you're seeing," Dr. York said. "Mild fright must not trigger it, or you would have seen this before. But abject terror, which is what she must be feeling now . . . I heard about the Shelburne project, I knew that they had the subject again, but lost her when - well, when you took her. This place must remind her of that time. They must have -" she stopped suddenly.

"Oh, God," Catherine breathed. "You're saying . . . you're saying she's terrified now because of what happened then . . ."

"Because she was tortured," Steve murmured. Catherine felt his muscles tremble underneath her hand.

"Similar environment, people in white lab coats -" Dr. York started.

"Your favorite science project, back in the lab," Riley said, staring back at Dr. York. "It will be the last time."

"Riley, the combination of fear and fever is triggering an unusual response," Dr. York said. "I think if you'll sort through your emotions, you'll be able to determine that you are more frightened than angry. The fever is making it harder for you to do that. I'm going to give you something to help you relax."

"No!" Riley shouted. "The hell you will." She wrenched her arm from Steve's grasp and for one horrifying moment, was reaching for her carefully sealed IV site.

"Riley, stop - you'll kill your brother and his friend," Dr. York said. "Do you really want to do that?"

Riley hesitated, her hand a hair's breadth away from the IV.

"I don't think you really want to," Dr. York said.

They watched as a myriad of emotions flickered through Riley's eyes. She looked at Steve and Catherine and then back at Dr. York.

"Do something," she gritted out. "Do something to make it stop."

"I'm going to give you a sedative," Dr. York said. "This is a complication that should be tested and studied thoroughly . . . but, given the circumstances . . . " she glanced at Riley's IV, "perhaps another time."

Riley's hand whipped out, in a blur of motion, and a tray went hurtling toward Dr. York's head. It caught her on the temple, and a slight trickle of blood seeped out from the point of impact.

"No," Riley said. She fought to remember what was happening, what was reality in the fog of confusion, and came up with the answer. "Antibodies. There's a virus, that's killing people. I can make antibodies that can help. Only that. Nothing more. Make this stop."

Dr. York held a hand to her head and nodded, dazed. "I'll send someone in with a sedative."

"What - what do I do?" Steve asked. He wasn't above begging, not even with this despicable person, not for Riley's sake. He felt Catherine's hand slip into his, and he held on tight.

"You could try talking to her," Dr. York said. "She seems to have a strong connection to you, based on our notes. She might believe you if you explain it to her."

Steve sat back down next to Riley, taking her arm in his hands. He turned it over gently, exposing the scar on the inside of her forearm. It was still visible, extending in a neat line from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. He traced his fingers over it.

"They won't stop," Riley said. "They'll never stop. I have to end it. End them."

"We'll find a way to make them stop, Riley," Steve said. "You're . . . right now you're not thinking clearly. When you get better, we'll figure it out, make a plan."

She looked at him, her hazel eyes a reflection of his own, and smiled. "We're a lot alike, aren't we?" she whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, we are," he said, smiling back.

She tilted her head, her eyes searching his for a moment. "It's not all brain damage, is it? I see it. You want to kill them, too. For what they've done to us."

"Riley . . ." Steve whispered.

"They made us weapons," she said. "And now they're afraid of us."

"Mostly of you, I think," Steve said, rubbing her arm gently.

She looked at him again, searching. "That would be mistake."

"It would be a mistake for them to hurt you again, for them to try to take you away from me," Steve said, and Riley nodded in satisfaction. "But Riley, listen . . . it's okay that you're afraid. I'm so sorry, this should never have happened. This anger you're feeling . . . it's a little bit confused. There's a small part of your brain that's supposed to tell the difference between the two, and it's been hurt."

Riley's eyes flickered. "I like the way I feel right now."

"I'm sure it feels better than being afraid," Steve said, "but . . . it might endanger other people."

Riley shrugged. "They want to hurt me."

"What about me and Catherine?" Steve asked softly.

"You should go," Riley said flatly. "Go far away."

"No, we're staying," Steve said. "So that means, you need to control this rage that you feel. Or Catherine and I will get hurt."

Riley bit her lip and looked up at him. She was pouting, and under any other circumstances he would have thought it was adorable.

"No fair," she whispered. Her eyes softened, and the glaze of pain and fever seemed to replace the uncanny gleam. Her lip trembled a bit. "I don't like this. I don't like any of it."

"I know," Steve said. "I'm so sorry."

A technician knocked tentatively on the door. "I've been sent with . . . a sedative?"

Steve nodded tersely, and the technician approached the bed. Riley tensed immediately, narrowing her eyes.

"Ah, I think you better let me," Steve said, holding his hand out. "I know what I'm doing, and she trusts me."

The technician dropped the syringe in Steve's hand and fled.

"Riley, I hate doing this," Steve said, as he flicked against the syringe to remove any air bubbles. "I hate it, but it's the best way to keep everyone safe. Just rest, Riley. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." He injected the contents of the syringe into the port attached to her IV fluid, and then disposed of the syringe in the biohazard container.

Catherine watched as he took his place beside the bed, reaching once again for Riley's arm. She'd read mission reports, she knew Steve was capable of killing with his bare hands if the situation called for it. Those same hands were so impossibly gentle as he tried to comfort Riley now . . . those hands were equally capable of sending the best possible of shivers up her spine . . . she stood quietly behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

Riley smiled at them, her eyes clearing slightly. "You came," she said. Then she frowned. "You've been here . . . I know . . . things are mixed up."

"It's okay," Catherine assured her. "I'm here to help Steve, and help you, and try . . . we're going to try to stop this Riley, but it's complicated. But we're going to try. My commanding officer is going to do everything he can. We can get JAG lawyers, make a stink."

Riley nodded, blinking slowly. The sedative was starting to kick in.

"Steve?" she mumbled, trying to focus her eyes on him.

"Yeah? I'm right here," he said.

"I was so angry," she said. "I was really afraid?"

"Yeah, something like that," he answered.

"I was afraid of how angry I was," she said. "That sounds like . . . I think that could be dangerous. You . . . you can stop me, right? You have to stop me. Don't let me hurt you or Catherine. Please."

"I won't," he said, "that's why we gave you something. It's okay. Rest."

#*#*#*#*#

Former Assistant Director Garrison stretched his hand - what was left of it - toward the laptop. He used his remaining two fingers to peck out a password, and the screen flickered.

"Dr. Huntington," Garrison wheezed. "How are things progressing?"

"The brother is here, and we've been assigned a Naval Intel liaison. It's complicating things. I wasn't able to get the MRI," Huntington sighed. "We do have confirmation of the amygdala damage, however. The girl is clearly terrified, but her response was to threaten to wipe us all out."

"That's something anyway," Garrison said. "Tread lightly. Remember, this virus wiped out some of the Navy's finest. A vaccine, and a cure, is what the SAD promised the CDC and the Navy. This is our opportunity to get back into their good graces and convince them to let us reactivate the Shelburne program. Don't get greedy in the short-term. And watch the brother. He will stop at nothing to protect her. We thought the subject was beyond use to us - the brain damage, the nanotechnology failure, her unexpected responses - but the DNA alterations, the original ones, seem to have been more effective than we ever anticipated. And this . . . this supposed damage to the amygdala . . . if this could be replicated, duplicated . . . this would be one of the most powerful military applications of this century."

Dr. Huntington listened as Garrison took a deep, wheezing, breath before continuing.

"Imagine being able to take our soldiers and turn their fear into rage," Garrison said. "We need the subject back under our control."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley drifted into fitful rest, and Steve heaved a sigh of relief.

"That was . . . wow," he said, shaking his head. "Scared the shit out of me. I've seen glimpses of it before, but that was . . . it has to be this hospital setting. Knowing she's in the hands of the SAD . . . again. Shit."

"Steve," Catherine said, quietly and urgently, "they had to know. They had to know this would terrify her, and then add to that the fever and pain . . . what if . . ."

"What is it, Cath?" he asked, willing to follow whatever line of thinking her agile brain had seized upon.

"What if they're trying to replicate that scenario? To . . . study it," Catherine said.

Steve thought for a moment, and then his eyes filled with horrified realization. "The damn MRI. What if she wasn't confused? What if she heard them talking about it?"

"How -?"

"Her DNA is enhanced, remember? It wasn't just the nanotechnology. Even without that, she has . . . and call me crazy, but I think some things are getting even stronger. What if they suspect that, what if . . . shit, Catherine," he said. "We can't trust any of them, we need to know what they might be looking for."

"You don't think I'm crazy, then," Catherine said. "You think this could be about more than that virus. But who -"

Steve was already grabbing his phone. "You're fucking brilliant, Cath," he whispered, wrapping a hand around her neck and kissing her quickly. "I don't tell you that enough."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny paced in his small living room, his hands running through his already disheveled hair.

"Again! They got their hooks into her again. I swear, Steve is gonna burn the island down," he said. "And I'm tempted to help him. God. You were there, Rebecca. You saw what they did the last time they had her, you couldn't stand for it. You helped Steve get her out."

"I know," Rebecca said, curled on the sofa, watching Danny.

"Who does the CIA think they are? They're . . . they're playing God, playing like Riley is just some kinda lab rat. What if she can't survive the virus? Hunh? You think they ever thought of that?" Danny ranted.

"I think they did," Rebecca answered. "And I believe they wouldn't have risked her life, Danny. She's valuable to them."

"Catherine says no news is good news," Danny muttered, pacing again. "We haven't heard anything."

"So we hold on to that," Rebecca said.

Danny's phone buzzed angrily on the coffee table. He grabbed it, shooting a desperate glance at Rebecca. "It's Catherine," he said, quickly thumbing the accept button on the phone. "Catherine, what's going on?"

Rebecca watched anxiously as Danny continued to pace, listening intently to Catherine. He stopped, finally, and handed the phone to Rebecca.

"They need to ask you some questions," he said hoarsely. He handed the phone to Rebecca.

She listened for a moment, nodding, and then responded quietly. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Danny raised an eyebrow at her in question.

"Okay, I'll tell you. I owe you the truth, I just . . . if you can't forgive me, after, I'll understand," she said. She closed her eyes, but not before a tear slipped down onto her cheek.

Danny sat down on the sofa, facing her, one arm around her shoulders and a strong hand on her knee. She gripped his hand, tight, as she started to speak.

"I know it was ketamine. She'd already experienced that with WoFat. But there was more; a powerful cocktail of drugs. Some of them were probably experimental . . . but primarily benzos to make her highly suggestible. She had to choose. She had - maybe still has, who knows - an unnatural ability to compartmentalize, to suppress . . . but she was so drugged, she had to choose between pushing away the pain or holding on to what she could of the memories she had of you and the team," Rebecca said, her voice breaking. "I watched her do it. She chose memory. Eventually . . . she passed out. From the pain. That's when -" Rebecca stopped short, a sob wrenching from her chest. "Steve, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Danny was sitting close enough that he could make out the sound of Steve's voice on the other end; his tone was gentle, soothing, and Danny smiled. Steve, of all people, understood following orders and finding yourself in a gray area.

"Another drug was ordered, to bring her back to consciousness. That's when I refused," Rebecca continued, wiping tears from her face. "They just brought someone else in to administer it, and I sealed my fate and threw my lot in with you guys. I'd do it again, at gunpoint. That had to be - it's the cruelest thing I've ever witnessed one human do to another. I'm so sorry."

Danny could hear Steve again, asking more questions.

"Yes, the science behind not suppressing her fever is sound," Rebecca said. "She will develop the antibodies faster, and the duration of the virus will actually be shortened. I know it sounds cruel. Pain relief and sedation . . . it's risky. As long as she's not out of your sight, I don't think they can try to manipulate her . . . the nanotechnology is destroyed. They'd have to use other methods, like they did . . . like we did, God help me . . . hard copy photographs, audio, that sort of thing."

Another pause, and Danny kissed Rebecca's temple, smoothing her hair away from her face as she listened.

"Absolutely not," she said emphatically, jumping to her feet. "No. Do not let them do an MRI. They have to be looking at the damage to the bilateral amygdala . . . what? You think . . . ? Oh my God. Weaponize the idea? Yes, I remember, in the bunker, she had to be in excruciating pain, and suddenly, this . . . change came over her face and she confronted your mo- Shelburne. And then yes, remember, at Tripler, she broke Dr. Link's nose when he came at her with a syringe. Yes . . . oh, God, Steve. I'm so sorry. I'd say . . . yes. She might be capable . . . they had no idea if it was a controllable response or not. Please be careful."

Rebecca took over the pacing while Danny sat this time, watching helplessly.

"If I think of anything else, yes, of course. And Steve . . . I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I was ever part of . . . well, yes, but it can't possibly make up for . . . okay," Rebecca sighed. "And Steve, you should know . . . your mother - she could have had me hauled away, hell, she probably could have ordered me shot, I don't know. But she didn't. When I refused, and another tech came in . . . she asked me to stay. To stay with Riley, to try to comfort her, to help her . . . she regretted it Steve, I know she did. She was . . . she was so proud of Riley. For fighting. I . . . I just thought you should know that. At the end, your mother . . . she did everything she could . . . okay."

She handed the phone back to Danny and collapsed onto the sofa.

"Steve?" Danny said, desperately grabbing the phone. "Steve, what the hell . . . can't we come? Okay . . . I know, I know . . . what can we do?"

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine smiled softly at Danny's earnest question, filtering over the speaker.

Steve smiled at her wryly before he answered Danny. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but there is one thing you can do for me, Danny. Contact Charlie Fong, fill him in on what's going on. He deserves to know, and . . . when she's no longer contagious, and we bring her back . . . bring him, with you guys. He'll want to see her. And you may as well keep Jerry posted, he's going to be losing his mind. But tell him, he can't say a word. He'll just put Riley in more danger if he tries to confirm or deny any rumors about this virus. Make him understand, Danny."

Steve ended the phone call and set the phone aside carefully, deliberately. Catherine realized it was taking all of his considerable control not to throw the phone across the room. Emotions warred across his face as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Finally, he turned and looked at her, his eyes burning, and when he spoke, his voice was raw.

"Catherine, how do I -" he started. "I can't - I can't do this -"

Catherine followed a hunch and stepped close to him, winding her arms up and around his neck. His hands automatically steadied her, wrapping around her slim hips. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, gently, and pulled back.

"You can, Steve, somehow," she whispered. "We'll get her through this, and then we will find a way to burn the program to the ground - with or without our Naval commission. And I will be with you every step of the way."

"Cath," he whispered. "I'm so screwed up right now."

"I know," she murmured, kissing him again. She bit his lower lip, gently, just a hint of pressure between her teeth, testing a theory. His hands tightened around her, and she did it again. "Come on," she whispered. "I've got you." She thought there were probably little finger-shaped bruises, now, on her hips. A dark part of her looked forward to checking, later.

She saw his pupils darken, and then one of his hands was tangled in her hair, and one splayed wide across her lower back as he kissed her hungrily, possessively. She held her own, at first, giving as good as she got, but eventually he could feel the kiss shift, feel that he was overpowering her. He felt some of the anger and frustration bleed away as he plundered her mouth, his hands gripping tight to her petite but solid frame. He pulled away, finally, panting.

"Oh, God, Catherine, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean -"

"She's right," Catherine interrupted. "It's not just her, not just the brain damage. You both have it . . . the capability of something . . . dangerous."

Steve swallowed hard. This was where he lost her, he was sure of it.

Catherine smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dimming light of the room. "You think I didn't know?" she whispered. "You think I didn't know exactly what I was signing up for, sailor? That I missed it, somehow, reading all of the intelligence reports after your missions? I'm fucking brilliant, remember? I know, Steve. And I'm in. I'm all in."

He shook his head in disbelief and bent to kiss her again, this time without the anger and frustration. She'd absorbed it, stood fast in the onslaught of it, and smiled.

"I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "You have to be batshit crazy to sign on for this, Cath, but I'm not going to lie, I need you. I don't think I can do this without you."

"No reason to find out," she assured him.

"You guys want my bed?" Riley's weak voice sounded from across the room.

Steve rested his forehead against Catherine's, kissed her quick on the tip of her adorable nose, and released her. He was at Riley's bedside in two strides.

"Hey, kid," he said softly, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "You're burning up, Riley. I'm so sorry. Are you in pain? Are you hurting anywhere?"

"Hmmhmm, but I can handle it," she said. "Just an ache, in my bones and muscles. I don't . . . I don't think drugs are a good idea for me. If I get confused, I get scared, and . . . I think I was very close to hurting people. I don't want to do that. Please, you have to promise me you won't let me hurt anyone, especially you or Catherine."

"What about you, Riley? I let them hurt you . . . I never should have taken you out in the field. It makes you too vulnerable," Steve said.

"You can't lock me in the tower like some storybook princess," Riley said. "Besides, it wouldn't work. I don't much care for being detained. I'd just sneak out. I figure . . . I'm safer with you and your team than roaming the streets of Honolulu. Or Tokyo. I'd like half a chance at a normal life, Steve."

"Nothing about you will ever be normal," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "And as far as I'm concerned, you and Mary are both storybook princesses."

Riley started to laugh, but winced in pain. Catherine stepped up with a cool washcloth and pressed it against her cheeks and forehead.

"Thank you," Riley said, sighing in relief.

Dr. York knocked and stepped into the room. Her forehead had been secured with two butterfly bandages, and the skin around it was bruised and purpling. Steve felt zero sympathy for her, and a rush of pride for Riley.

"How is she . . . feeling?" Dr. York ventured.

"She's burning up," Steve said. "And in some pain. But she's lucid. Neither of us is going to try to kill you at the moment, if that's what you're asking. Day's not over yet, though."

Dr. York approached Riley cautiously, pulling a thermometer out of her pocket. "May I check your temperature?"

Riley nodded tiredly, and Dr. York placed the probe carefully in her ear. They waited for what seemed like a long time before there was finally a beeping noise.

"Well, fever is one hundred and four," Dr. York said. "I'm sure she's uncomfortable, I can administer more pain relief? More sedatives? We did promise to do our best to keep her comfortable."

"No," Riley said firmly. "No drugs. They make me confused. I just want this to be over with. Shouldn't I have antibodies by now?"

Dr. York hesitated. "We can check. It's probably too soon but . . . we can check. I'll send a technician in to collect a sample."

"I think some ice chips, perhaps some Gatorade, maybe some comfort measures would be in order as well," Catherine said, eyeing Dr. York cooly. "I'm sure those aren't your priority but I imagine you can manage to rustle them up from somewhere."

"Of course," Dr. York said, as she practically bolted from the room.

Catherine continued to dampen the cloth and dab at Riley's face, while Steve paced, feeling helpless. In moments, the door opened again, and Dr. York stood with a technician in full biohazard gear.

"You'll both need to leave the room while he collects the sample," Dr. York said.

"The hell I will," Steve replied immediately.

"Look, Commander," Dr. York said, straightening her spine. "With this equipment, the risk of exposure is minute, but there is a risk."

"I don't care," Steve said, setting his jaw stubbornly.

"Okay, but you should," Dr. York said. She had more confidence when within her field of expertise. "Even if there are antibodies already - if you're exposed, right now, we can't produce the cure fast enough to help you. So, you die. Riley lives, but you die. You want to do that to her? Leave her without you?"

Steve stared her down for a moment, then relented. "Okay. But I know there's an observation window, or a security cam. I watch every move."

Catherine's eyes widened. Window? Camera? Of course. Of course there would be, she just hadn't been thinking of that when . . .

"You're blushing," Riley whispered, grinning a familiar lopsided grin at her. "I wasn't going all telekinetic at the moment, maybe they weren't watching."

"Telekinesis? Really?" Catherine whispered back, teasing.

"Stephen King is very big in Tokyo," Riley said. "Don't let Steve go crazy, please. Stay with him."

Catherine squeezed Riley's hand and nodded.

#*#*#*#*#

"Will it hurt her?" Steve asked, holding tight to Catherine's hand as they watched the procedure. To Catherine's immense relief, the small camera focused on Riley's bed. She was hopeful that perhaps her little . . . encouragement of Steve had gone unnoticed. Or at least, unrecorded.

"No, not a bit," Dr. York said, looking up at him in surprise. She sized him up, studying him, and her face softened. "It should be over soon . . . unless -"

"Unless what?!" Steve demanded, whirling on her.

"You have to have some idea how fascinating her case is to us," Dr. York said. "We would love to do a bit of further testing. The . . . anomaly. With her bilateral amygdala . . . the fear / pain response confusion . . . don't you want to have some answers? Aren't you afraid . . . aren't you afraid she could hurt someone? Or herself?"

"If we need answers we won't be asking the SAD for them," Steve said firmly. "No. No tests. Nothing beyond checking for antibodies. Naval Intelligence has you on a short leash. Lieutenant Rollins will personally oversee the lab test done on that sample."

"As you wish," Dr. York sighed.

#*#*#*#*#

The process was repeated every two hours.

Steve and Catherine took turns trying to catch brief naps, while the other was sitting with Riley as she drifted in and out of consciousness and delirium. Steve tucked a blanket more securely around Catherine and sat down next to Riley. He picked up the cup of ice chips and held the spoon to her mouth.

"Come on, honey, take some ice," he coaxed. "You're dehydrated."

She opened her mouth and let him tuck some of the cool ice between her parched lips. Her eyes opened slightly and she made an effort to smile at him.

"I'm doing okay," she whispered. "Shouldn't be long now. I bet my fancy DNA is cranking out antibodies as we speak."

He nodded desperately. She had to be right. He couldn't bear to think of the alternative.

"It will be good, right? If they can make a vaccine?" Riley murmured. "It will save people's lives. That's a good day's work. Better than . . . better than other things. Useful. Not . . . just damaged and scary. I want . . . I want to do useful things, Steve. Good things."

"I know," he said. "I know, Riley. I understand."

She blinked up at him. "Five-O. You . . . were ready to do that? Instead of the SEALs?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I didn't think I was . . . I - okay, honestly, I did it at first just to piss off Danny. I know, crazy, right? That's Danny for you. The only person I know so impossibly infuriating who can push you to make a life-altering decision out of spite. But, it was good. It was a good decision. And yeah, I feel like I spend more time doing good things. Maybe a little less time doing scary things."

He grabbed another washcloth and got it as cold as he could, blotting at her cheeks and forehead. Her arms and legs moved restlessly, nonstop, as her body subconsciously tried to get away from the unrelenting pain from the virus and fever. He remembered the violent flu from Cambodia, remembered a patient nurse rubbing the large muscles of his body when it was the worst.

"Tell me if this hurts," he murmured, his strong hand rubbing her shoulder gently. He felt the muscle relax just a bit under his touch.

"'S'good," she said, closing her eyes. He carefully and methodically rubbed her shoulders, elbows, knees, and ankles, mindless of the mild fatigue in his hands as long as it was bringing her some measure of relief.

"I'm not supposed to do this," she whispered. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and tracked down, disappearing into the waves of her hair.

"What, Riley?" he asked softly. "What aren't you supposed to do?"

"Let myself get dependent on anyone," she said. "Need people. But I do. I know you shouldn't have come. You should have protected yourself, you should have let them take me. But I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you're here. I'm putting you at risk and I'm glad you're here because I don't think I could have done this alone."

"Riley . . . I get it, I do," he said. He was focused on her hand, now, rubbing the knuckles gently. Her skin was burning hot, her joints swollen under his touch. "I used to feel the same way. But it's okay. It's okay to need people. And you've got people you can count on."

She nodded slowly, drifting again. He switched back to a cold compress, and was carefully wiping down her face when her eyes flew open.

"You have to go," she said, her voice urgent and panicked.

He thought she was delirious and possibly hallucinating, but her eyes focused sharply and clearly on his.

"Get out," she said, her voice rising. Catherine stirred, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Get out of the room," Riley repeated.

"Riley, what's wrong?" Steve asked.

"I think my nose is bleeding," Riley said, frantic. "Get out . . . oh, God, Steve get out, get Catherine out, go."

"I don't see -" Steve started.

"I can feel it," Riley insisted. "I can feel it; it's at the back . . . back of my throat. You have to go, you have to get out." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "It's not working, I'm not fighting it off, the virus is too strong. Take Catherine, get out, please, before you're exposed. Please."

"Catherine," Steve said, "Go. Get out of the room, get Dr. York."

Catherine nodded, biting her lip, and left the room quickly, looking back over her shoulder at Riley and Steve.

Dr. York's shoes squeaked loudly on the floor as she ran in and stopped short just inside the door. "Out! Get out of the room!"

"I'm not -" Steve started.

"I'll ask you again," Dr. York said, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. "You want to die, leave your sister alone?"

"Go, please go," Riley begged.

"Tell me what you're going to do for her," Steve yelled. "I'm not leaving unless you tell me you can help her. Do something, damn it! It wasn't supposed to get to this point. You said it wouldn't get to this point!"

"It may be nothing," Dr. York said. "I'll come back in, dressed in biohazard gear, and see if there's any bleeding. We'll go from there. I'll collect the next blood sample while I'm at it."

Steve called out to Riley over Dr. York's head. "Riley, I'll be in the room right next to you, okay? I'll be watching over you. And I'll get hazmat gear, I'll be right back in. You hear me, Riley?"

He allowed Dr. York to push him out of the room, and he felt his back collide with something - someone - tall and almost as solid as himself. He turned, ready to throw a punch, but stopped in utter disbelief.

"Joe?" he gasped.

"I came as soon as I could, Steve," Joe said. "I hope to God I'm not too late."


	43. Viral 6

Steve stared at the man in front of him. Joe had lost weight but not muscle; he was as fit as Steve remembered from his days in BUDs. A fresh, barely healed scar glinted pale in the flourescent lighting, curving across his forearm and disappearing into his sleeve. He carried himself with the same quiet, incontrovertible authority.

"It was the best way I could think of to help," Joe said quietly. "And no, Catherine didn't know."

"Know what?" Catherine asked, confused.

"You didn't know that Joe was back, working officially as part of Special Activities," Steve said, quickly putting the pieces together. "You disappeared, without a trace, Joe. You left a damn DNA sample in my desk, and disappeared. I thought you were going to hunt for - for Shelburne."

"That's exactly what I've been doing," Joe said. "And in the process, I found out that Garrison had crawled out from under a rock and was trying to get the Shelburne project back into the Navy's program. I visited him in the burn center . . . convinced him to give up your location."

"Wait, we were told this was a joint SAD/CIA sanctioned mission," Catherine said. "I was sent here officially, to represent Naval Intel, and make sure they didn't overstep their authority. This project is strictly limited to developing a vaccine and cure for this virus. It wiped out a Navy hospital ship sent on a humanitarian mission."

"And there's more, isn't there," Joe said, studying Catherine intensely. "They've tried to do more."

"Yeah," Steve said, "They wanted to do MRIs . . . study the part of her brain that was damaged during that seizure at the mountain house, before . . . before Shelburne took her."

"You've managed to hold them off?" Joe asked.

"Damn straight," Steve said.

"Good," Joe said, relieved. "I'll explain more later. How's Riley?"

Steve hesitated, then motioned Joe to the observation room. They watched the monitor anxiously, as Dr. York entered, in full hazmat gear. Her muffled voice came over the speaker.

"Riley, you said you felt like your nose was bleeding?" she asked.

Riley nodded. "That's how it happens, right? When the virus spreads, it's because people start bleeding. And get violent. That's why Jerry's friends call it a zombie virus. Those poor scientists . . . you let them die just to set a trap to catch me. You people are insane."

Dr. York ignored her comments and picked up an otoscope. "I'm going to look in your nose, ears, and throat," she said. "Based on our research, you shouldn't be this susceptible to the virus. I think you're just imagining the bleeding."

Riley fidgeted as Dr. York checked carefully, her hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets.

"Hold still," Dr. York demanded.

"She's hurting her," Steve said through gritted teeth. He turned on the hapless audio visual technician managing the equipment. "Get me some hazmat gear," he barked.

"Sir, I - okay," the startled young man said, and dashed quickly from the room.

"Didn't think you'd let a little virus keep you from her," Joe said.

"Not my call - Riley was distraught, wanted me and Catherine out of the room," Steve said. "I promised her I wouldn't come back in without gear."

"I didn't," Joe said, shrugging. Before Steve or Catherine could react, he had disappeared around the corner of the room, and then they saw him on the monitor.

"Sir you really shouldn't -" Dr. York started.

"Yeah, I've done a lot of things I shouldn't have," Joe drawled. "Add this to the list. Hello, sweetheart. Is this doctor hurting you?"

Riley stared up at him, her eyes glassy with fever. "I'm hallucinating," she whispered, looking at Dr. York.

"No, there's a very foolish and very grumpy person standing in the room," Dr. York said, exasperated. "And I'm not hurting her. I'm trying to determine if she's bleeding."

Joe slipped around to the other side of the bed and took Riley's hand in his, as Catherine and Steve watched in disbelief.

"Hold still just a minute, then, honey, and let her finish," Joe said gently. "I know you're in a world of hurt, and I'm sorry."

"Nothing I can't handle," Riley said. "This is what you trained me for. I can deal with it. I just don't want anyone else to get sick." She stopped, looking up at Dr. York. "Well. I don't want innocent people to get sick."

Dr. York shook her head. "There's absolutely no sign of bleeding, Riley. It was a false alarm."

"I don't trust you," Riley said. "You'd say that, and let Steve and Catherine be exposed. You'd use them against me, use them to try to get me to cooperate with you."

Joe chuckled darkly. "They probably would," he said. "But they can't, now. They all answer to me now, and I'm not going to let them do that."

In the adjoining room, Catherine wrapped her hand around Steve's arm, looking up at him in confusion. He shook his head, with no answers to offer.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Joe said, pulling himself up to tower over Dr. York. "Commander Joe White, US Navy. And the new director of the Shelburne program. As of right now, you, Dr. Huntington, and every person in this facility answers to me."

"Son of a bitch," Steve whispered, his eyes going wide in shock.

"I believe you need to collect a sample, to test for antibodies," Joe said calmly. "Do that, and get out. Lieutenant Rollins will supervise the lab testing." He looked straight into the camera, angled from the ceiling toward Riley's bed. "I have some explaining to do."

#*#*#*#*#

Dr. York was still hovering around when Steve strode back into Riley's room.

"You have your sample," Steve demanded. "What are you still doing here?"

"Fascinating," Dr. York murmured. "I would have thought she could have brought this place down in her fear induced rage. But she's just . . . sitting there. It's possible that the virus has incapacitated -"

"She's in shock, you absolute imbecile," Steve gritted out. "But you want to see rage, stick around, wasting time, treating her like a lab rat. Get out. Let me talk to your new boss."

Dr. York made a wise retreat, and Steve whirled on Joe. "What the hell, Joe? You sell us out? What about all your talk of keeping your promise to my father, protecting us? Just a line of bullshit?"

Riley flinched at the anger in Steve's voice. Joe said nothing, as he pulled a small device out of his pocket and aimed it at the surveillance camera. He pushed a button, and the lights on the camera disappeared.

"Riley," Steve said, "I'm not going to let him take you away. I swear to God, he will have to come through me, and I will tear this place to the ground."

"No one is taking Riley," Joe said quietly. "Please, hear me out."

Steve glanced at Riley. She was pale and trembling, her eyes still glassy with fever and pain. He reined in his anger and took a deep breath, then moved to the sink to dampen another cloth from the stack on the counter. Sitting next to Riley, he wrapped one hand comfortingly around her arm, and dabbed at her face with the cloth.

"Talk," he said, not sparing Joe a glance.

"I've been all over the globe, trying to track down anyone or anything from that bunker," Joe said.

"You were trying to find Olivia," Riley whispered. "Shelburne."

"Yes," Joe nodded. "I haven't found her. But I got a lead on Garrison, and I found him. When I did, of course, I discovered that he was pulling the strings, calling the shots, and that he'd somehow convinced the Navy to go along with his scheme to use Riley to try to find antibodies for this virus."

"Obviously, the Navy agreed," Steve said. "Catherine's CO said it was sanctioned. Sent her to keep them honest."

"Yes," Joe said. "But I knew they wouldn't stop there."

"They'll never stop," Riley whispered. "They're going to take me away again."

"Shh," Steve soothed. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"There is a new faction. Completely unsanctioned; no one knows who's at the top, but the CIA and the SAD have disavowed all knowledge or participation," Joe said. "You've heard of The Committee?"

Steve's head shot up. "I thought it was urban legend."

"No," Joe said. "This is a similar group. They are known as The Elders. We're not sure if that's a self-designation or if it started with our people needing a designation. Whatever - it's stuck."

"These . . . Elders - they want Riley," Steve said. "Garrison?"

"Yes. Ostensibly, he was working for the SAD, but he, ah, informed me that he was, in fact, part of The Elders," Joe said. "A double agent, for lack of a better term."

"Informed you?" Steve asked quietly. "Under duress?"

"I did what I needed to do to protect Riley," Joe said. "Garrison is no longer an issue. He will live out the rest of his miserable life comfortably sedated and never again in contact with the outside world. The rest of these idiots are pawns."

"The virus?" Steve demanded.

"Unfortunately, a legitimate concern," Joe said. "Everything they've said about the virus is true. But its existence played perfectly into their hand. We do desperately need antibodies, or it's going to continue to spread and kill thousands of innocent people."

"I want to help," Riley said, her voice weak but insistent. "With that part."

"And you are," Joe assured her, his voice impossibly gentle. He pulled up another rolling stool and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Steve. "What hurts, sweetheart? What can we do?"

"I can handle it," Riley insisted again, clenching her jaw stubbornly. "Just like you taught me. Pain is a state of mind. I . . . I've let myself get weak, I've let my guard down, but I can do better, I can -"

Steve's eyes flashed angrily at Joe. "Your handiwork, Joe. She told me about the fall. The dislocated shoulder and hip . . . about Frank taking her to the monks when you wouldn't."

"I thought I was doing the right thing," Joe said. "Would she have been able to survive what happened in that bunker, if I hadn't taught her?"

"Would she have been in that bunker, in the first place, if you hadn't aided and abetted this god-forsaken Shelburne project?" Steve spat. "If you'd brought her to me, let me protect her, instead of turning her into -" He broke off at the stricken look in Riley's eyes.

"Riley, I didn't mean -" he said softly. "I just wish Joe had brought you to me, years ago. I wish none of this had ever happened to you. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I would have come for you."

"It's different now, Riley," Joe said. "Steve is here to protect you, and I managed to get myself named head of the project so that I could protect you both."

"What is your new objective?" Riley asked. Her eyes were blinking slowly as she fought to stay coherent. "What's the objective of the Shelburne project now? What do you want? What will you do with me?" Her voice broke, and tears slipped out of her eyes, tracking down to disappear in the waves of sandy brown hair spread on the pillow.

"No, Riley, it's not like that," Joe insisted. "The objective of the Shelburne Project is simple: to protect you from people like WoFat, and The Elders. No more testing. No more experimentation. We have one objective, and that is to keep you from falling into the wrong hands."

"I don't want to be in anyone's hands," Riley said weakly. "I don't want to be a weapon, or a lab rat, or a bargaining chip. Can't I just go back to Frank? To the monks? Please?"

"Riley, you'd be too exposed," Joe said.

She looked at Steve, pleading.

"You'd endanger Frank and the monks," Joe said.

She sobbed weakly, her eyes closing even as she fought to stay conscious, and then she was quiet and still.

"Riley?" Steve patted her cheek, but there was no response. "Riley?!"

Dr. York and Catherine rushed in at the same time.

"We have good news," Dr. York said, "there are antibodies present in her blood. She's done what no one else has been able to do - she's successfully fighting the virus. In about six hours, we should have a strong enough concentration to develop a cure and a vaccine."

"She just lost consciousness," Steve said. "I don't give a damn about the antibodies, do something for her."

"She's probably much more comfortable now," Dr. York said. She was pragmatic to the core.

"You're an excellent scientist but a horrible human being," Catherine snapped. "She's unconscious. Is she okay?"

Dr. York bustled around, taking Riley's vitals and checking her temperature.

"Fever is almost to one hundred five," she said, almost cheerful. "For anyone else, that would be incredibly dangerous, but her body, as you know, can withstand more than the average human. She should be just fine. This is how she's able to fight off the virus when the rest of us can't. It's the fever that will kill the virus, along with the antibodies. This is completely successful."

"One-oh-five," Catherine murmured in disbelief. "Surely, then, she's -"

"Oh, yes, incredibly uncomfortable," Dr. York said. "Extreme joint and muscle pain, swelling of the mucous membranes, due to dehydration - that's probably why she had the sensation of bleeding. But no actual damage. It's remarkable."

Steve had her by the lapels of her crisp white lab jacket, pressed against the wall, with his forearm at her throat, before Catherine or even Joe could react.

"Do. Something. For. Her," he growled. "You're getting your damn antibodies. Give her something for the pain."

"Excuse me, but she's the one that refused pain medication," Dr. York whined. "That wasn't my idea."

"She's no longer able to give or withhold consent, and I'm saying, give her something," Steve said. "Are we clear?"

Dr. York sniffed haughtily as Steve lowered her back to the floor. She looked at Joe.

"In matters of personal medical decisions, Commander McGarrett has full authority," Joe said. "He is Riley's next of kin and medical proxy. Do as he says."

"Fine," Dr. York huffed. "I'll send a nurse in with Demerol. I was never supposed to have to deal with patient care, anyway. I'm going back to the lab." She left the room, her lab coat fluttering behind her.

"Unbelievable," Steve muttered, turning his attention back to Riley. "Honey, can you hear me? You're going to be fine. You're beating this virus."

Riley moaned softly, turning her head from side to side. Her eyes fluttered open, wild and unfocused, and fell on Joe.

"Did I fail again?" she whispered. "Did I fall?"

"No, sweetheart," Joe said, his voice choked. "No, you never failed. Never. I'm the person that failed. Hold on. Steve is going to see that you get something to help with the pain, and then you're going to feel better, and then you'll get better. You didn't fall, you're sick."

"Olivia said natural antibodies were the best and that it was okay . . . I got to go play with the little girl. I didn't usually get to play but . . . she was sick. Olivia said I could . . . could share my coloring book and cheer her up," Riley mumbled. "I got sick, too, but it was okay. Olivia gave me tea. I did watercolors and . . . then I couldn't, anymore, for awhile, I couldn't . . . hold the brush. I got better."

Catherine gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, as her eyes filled with tears. "Riley," she whispered.

"I wanted to go back to play with the little girl," Riley muttered. "Couldn't. Olivia said no. Said . . . she wasn't there anymore. I think maybe . . . maybe she died."

Steve turned to Joe in disbelief. "Our mother . . . exposed her to childhood diseases, instead of vaccinating her?"

"Vaccines are tracked," Joe said. "Doris would have kept her as far off the grid as possible."

"Plus, the program wanted to see if their DNA enhancements worked," Steve said coldly. "Right?"

Joe nodded silently. "Probably. I wasn't read in at that point. I'm in a position now, Steve, that I can get you answers. You have to believe that's why I'm doing this."

"I don't have to believe anything," Steve said, as Riley's breath caught in another moan. "Where's the pain, honey? What can we do?"

Catherine marched to the door of the room. "I'm finding that damn nurse," she said.

"I don't like this," Riley whispered, looking at Steve. "I don't want to be here."

"I know," Steve said, pressing another cool cloth against her cheek. "Where would you like to be? Hmm? Let's imagine it. Close your eyes and picture it. Where would you like to go?"

She closed her eyes obediently, leaning her head into his hand. "I want to go back to the monks," she whispered. "They can make the pain go away."

"Maybe we could go for a visit, sometime soon," Steve suggested. "I don't think I can get you there until you're much better, though. What about the mountain house? Would you like to go there?"

She nodded, wincing. "I like it there," she murmured. "We can go?"

"Soon as you get out of here," Steve promised. "We'll take you there to recover."

"I heal fast," Riley said. "Even before . . . even without the nanobytes. I can go back to work. There's work. I'm working on . . . there's a database, and I'm not done. Something's wrong with my computer. It's watching me."

Joe looked up at Steve, alarmed. "What's she talking about?"

"I have no idea," Steve said. "She's delirious. But there was something, on her computer, that spooked her the other day. Charlie brought it to my attention. Jerry checked it out, found a sophisticated but harmless virus."

"Send word to have that computer destroyed," Joe said quietly. "Immediately."

Steve looked at him for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "Okay, Joe." He pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Charlie Fong. "It's done."

"No argument? No demand for explanation?" Joe asked.

"Not right now," Steve said, rubbing his hand over his face. "I'm exhausted, and I'm worried. If there's a chance there's something wrong . . . so was it you? Were you bugging Riley's computer?"

"No," Joe said. "No, and that's what scares me."

Catherine came back in, nuding a nurse in front of her. "Tell them," she demanded.

"I was told not to administer the pain medication until the surveillance camera was turned back on," the nurse said.

Steve swore softly and shook his head in disgust. "Where's the bastard that -"

"Steve," Joe said, putting a hand on Steve's arm. Steve looked down, absently tracking the evidence of at least two of Joe's fingers having been broken, and poorly healed. "Let me deal with it. You focus on Riley."

Steve nodded and held out his hand to the nurse. "Give it to me. Get out."

She complied, scurrying out of the room after Joe. Steve started to inject the contents of the syringe into Riley's IV, but to his dismay, his hands were shaking.

"Tell me how to do it," Catherine murmured, her small hands resting on his, calming him. She took the syringe and uncapped it.

"Flick it, remove any air bubbles," he said, "force a couple drops out of the needle, then just put it - yep, there you go - and press the plunger."

Catherine finished easily, recapping the needle and disposing of it in the sharps container. She wrapped her arms around Steve and nudged him to the stool next to Riley's bed.

"What if we can't trust him, Catherine?" Steve whispered.

"I called my CO while I was in the lab, watching the blood test," Catherine said. "He's confirmed it. Commander White is operating under the authority of US Naval Intelligence and the Special Activities Division. First thing he did was to completely seal all of Riley's records. No one can access anything - including her medical records - without Joe's personal approval. Anyone who tries to access her records . . . it's flagged to come to both Joe's attention and yours. I don't know what his motives are, but he's telling the truth." She stood behind Steve and rubbed his neck, her thumbs pressing on the knots of tension.

"Our mother deliberately exposed her to God knows what as a child," Steve said. "Joe let her sustain who knows how many injuries - some of which he inflicted himself. WoFat waterboarded her. Then our mother got her hands on her again . . . you heard what Rebecca described. Nothing short of torture. And now this . . ."

"This is nothing, comparatively," Catherine said. "She'll get through this, Steve. I think the worst is over. They were saying that the next two blood samples should give them everything they need. She's getting better; her body is fighting off the virus."

"It's not just her body I'm worried about," Steve said. "How much can she take, Catherine? Not just physically."

"I don't know, Steve," Catherine said. "How about you? I'm worried about you - no, don't wave me off. I can't imagine how you're dealing with this."

"I don't think I could, not without you," Steve said. "Thank you for coming, Catherine. It was a huge risk."

"No place I'd rather be," Catherine said, kissing him on the cheek.

Riley stirred, her eyes fluttering open and focusing tiredly on Steve.

"You let them give me drugs," she said, frowning. "I don't . . . what if I get confused . . . I can't -"

"Shh," Steve said, turning her arm over and stroking his fingertips over the scar. "I've got you, Riley. You're going to start getting better now. Your fever was so high, we had to give you something. Just rest."

"You . . . need to rest," Riley said, her eyes closing again. "Look like . . . shit."

Steve chuckled. "Okay, in a little bit," he said.

"Joe . . . furious," Riley said. "Dr. Huntington . . . Dr. York . . . never work for the Navy or the SAD again."

"How do you know?" Catherine asked.

"Hear them?" Riley said, blinking up at her. "Oh, you can't. I can. Down the hall. Frank . . . told Joe, watch the language around me. Funny, because Frank . . ." she trailed off.

"What about Frank, honey?" Steve prompted.

"He's here?" Riley asked.

"No," Steve said, smiling at her fondly. "You feeling any better?"

"Yeah," she said, blinking at him. "Do I have nanobytes again?"

"No, you have Demerol," Steve said. "Why don't you close your eyes, try to sleep?"

"Okay," she mumbled. "You sleep, too. And Catherine. Sleep. Don' worry 'bout me. M'fine. Joe . . . Joe says they have to stay away from me. They're scared of him now."

"I bet," Steve said, chuckling.

Riley's eyes opened once more. "They're scared of me, too," she whispered, then closed her eyes and fell soundly asleep.

#*#*#*#*#

Charlie Fong paced in Kono's office.

"No, he didn't really give an explanation," he said. "McGarrett just sent the text message." He held the phone out for Kono to read it.

"Destroy Riley's laptop, explain later," Kono read. "Wow. So, did you destroy it?"

"Of course," he said. "Took a sledgehammer to it myself, then sealed it and autoclaved it. It's toast. Literally."

"What's toast?" Danny asked, poking his head in Kono's office.

"Riley's laptop," Kono informed him. "Steve sent Charlie a text message, telling him to destroy it. Said he'd explain later."

"Well, Charlie might just get that explanation," Danny said, waving his phone at them. "It's been twenty-four hours since Riley's been deemed no longer contagious. They're taking her to the mountain house to recover. We're all invited to go up for a short visit, and deliver Rebecca. Steve's worked out approval for her to accept two weeks private duty nursing for Riley."

Charlie sighed. "Tell her hello for me," he said.

"You kidding? I've been instructed to bring you specifically," Danny said, grinning.

"Seriously?" Charlie asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, he admitted that it about damn near killed him to do it, but Steve told me to keep you in the loop and bring you with us," Danny said.

"Has . . . has Riley asked for me to come?" Charlie asked, ducking his head.

"I don't think Riley's asked for much of anything," Danny said. "From what Steve described, she's in rough shape. I can tell he's worried about her. He's hoping that seeing the team will . . . cheer her up, I guess. He also says we need to be briefed on some developments - says the mountain house is the best place to do that. Apparently, we're to be prepared for a bit of a shock."

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you can land the helo up there?" Steve asked, grinning at Joe.

"Please, who taught you everything you know?" Joe asked, grinning back at him.

For a moment, Steve was transported back to Coronado, stationed briefly after a few successful SEAL missions, sharing beers with Joe - no longer as instructor and student, but as equals. Steve studied him now, as they stood in the hall, waiting for the nurses to finish helping Riley bathe and dress, under Catherine's careful supervision. Joe had aged in the months since he'd disappeared. His hair was grayer, his face thin to the point of gauntness. Steve had observed two more scars in addition on the one on his forearm, and the obviously broken fingers. But Joe's eyes had a brightness to them now, a new purpose, and he'd lost some of the haunted look that Steve had last seen.

"We're going to have some serious talks," Steve said, looking pointedly at Joe's recent injuries. "And you're going to take care of yourself, too. Riley's not the only one that needs some R&R."

"Lot of that going around," Joe said, raising his eyebrows at Steve. "You've got circles under your eyes like I've not seen since that mission in Kabul. And I'm pretty sure you're sporting some gray hair that you didn't have the last time I saw you. Hell, even Catherine looks a little worn down, and that's saying something. She needs some decent rest and more than a few good meals."

"She's worn herself thin holding me together," Steve said quietly.

"I know, son, that's why I called her CO and worked out the details for her position as Naval Intel liaison to be extended at least two weeks," Joe said, smirking at Steve. "She needs to be fully briefed on this new faction anyway, and I'd rather do it away from Pearl. Plus, I figure the two of you deserve some time together, after this."

On the other side of the door, Catherine gently helped Riley ease her arms through a Navy issue sweatshirt.

"You'll start feeling better at the mountain house, I'm sure," Catherine said softly, brushing Riley's hair away from her face.

"So will you," Riley said, trying to summon a smile.

"Oh, I'll have to go back to Pearl, I'm sure," Catherine said.

"Nope," Riley said. "Joe wants you with us. He's cleared it. Just told Steve. Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. They aren't being quiet, and I'm too tired to try to not listen."

Steve and Joe returned to the room as the nurses left.

"Catherine, I spoke with your CO-" Joe started to say.

"I'll be delighted to join you," Catherine said, winking at Riley.

Steve shook his head and pretended to frown at Riley, but she was looking happier than he'd seen her since her fever broke, and he felt a sense of relief.

"What am I gonna do with you?" he asked, cupping his hand around her frighteningly pale cheek.

"I'm thinking a white noise machine would be a really, really good idea," Riley said, "especially since Catherine is coming with."

Joe laughed with them, as he watched Riley carefully, noting that her smile was forced, and didn't reach her eyes - her eyes, which looked just like Steve's.

Their mother's eyes.


	44. Lesser of the Evils 1

A/N: Thank you for the lovely notes letting me know that you're still interested in this story. I've been struggling to find time and inspiration, but I feel like I have some vague sense of direction for the next turn of events (vague being the operative word). I sometimes hesitate to write what feels like fluff in the middle of a cloak-and-dagger driven story line, but so many have mentioned really enjoying the family / team dynamic, I thought I'd indulge for a chapter or two. The story is deliberately identified as hurt/comfort/family, so if that's not your thing . . . there's lots of other stuff to read. :-)

Also - I've been delighted (and honored) at several requests for additional Steve/OC stories. FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK. Yes, there is something on the back burner.

#*#*#*#*#

There was a light fog over the mountain as they approached. Joe tilted his head imperceptibly at Steve and then glanced down at his hand. Steve saw it shaking on the controls, and smoothly took over.

"Sorry," Joe said quietly.

Steve looked at Joe's hand again, at the fingers that had obviously been broken. They had healed poorly.

"We're all here to do some healing," he said. He touched the helicopter struts down gently and cut the controls. The rotor slowed and then stopped, as Steve and Joe moved swiftly through shutting down the engine.

Riley was content with Joe's hand on her elbow, steadying her, as they made their way from the clearing to the house. Catherine slipped her hand into Steve's, and he looked down at her as they fell a few paces behind Joe.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Did I take you granted, you know . . . before? Before all this?"

"Little bit," Catherine said, smiling up at him. "But that was before."

"It meant a lot, for you to be there," he said. "For you to be here. I want you to rest, I mean it."

The fog was settled over the house.

"It's a little gloomy," Joe said.

"It's perfect," Riley answered. "Doesn't it remind you of the monastery?"

"It does," Joe said. "Riley, I'm sorry. I should have hidden you away at the monastery."

"One problem with that, Joe," Riley said, as she made her way slowly, painfully up the porch steps. "I'm no nun."

Catherine laughed at Steve's pained expression.

#*#*#*#*#

The house was just as they had all remembered it. Even without use, the house smelled of fresh teak and sandalwood, and a few open windows soon filled the house with the fragrance of the flowers outside.

"The team is bringing groceries and all of our gear," Steve said, as he headed to the kitchen. "I'm sure there's tea, though."

Soon, they were sitting around the smoothly worn table, sipping an exotic blend that Catherine couldn't identify.

"We need to decide how much to tell your team," Joe said.

"We tell my team everything," Steve said immediately. Joe started to object, but Steve cut him off firmly. "Joe, all due respect - and I mean that sincerely - but secrecy has not served us well so far. My team can be trusted. And that includes Charlie and Jerry."

Joe smiled. "Jerry, I worry about least of all."

"Really?" Catherine asked, surprised.

"If you've spent five minutes with Jerry, would you believe that half the things he says are possible? All of the conspiracy theories? UFOs?" Joe asked.

Catherine thought about it for a moment. "I wouldn't have before," she said. "But now I'm not so sure. Well, that's frankly terrifying. But I get your point."

Steve reached over and put his hand on top of Riley's. "Is that okay with you, Riley? For the team to know about the new Shelburne Project, and Joe?"

"I don't want them to be targets," she said. "The more they know . . . this new group, The Elders - won't they go after them, too?"

"Riley, I think that's why they need to know," Steve said gently. "They're already at risk."

"Because of me," Riley said. "I endanger everyone and everything."

"We chose to accept this risk, though, Riley," Catherine said. "All of us - we went into law enforcement and military. There's a reason we all have Kevlar."

"Jerry didn't have Kevlar," Riley said quietly.

"We'll get him some," Steve said, smiling. "I'll have it special ordered. Do you really think Jerry is going to want to be left out of the loop? Do you want to have to keep secrets from one of your best friends?"

"No," Riley said. She thought a moment, and then laughed. "He's going to love this, you know. The Elders. So melodramatic."

#*#*#*#*#

It had been fairly easy to convince Riley and Catherine to go rest for a while before the team arrived. Steve poured another cup of tea and slipped out to the front porch, settling into one of the old chairs and staring out into the forest. He heard the door open and close quietly behind him.

"Mind if I join you?" Joe asked.

Steve gestured to an empty chair. They sat for a while, in silence.

"Do you need medical attention?" Steve asked. His tone was neutral, but not unkind. "How badly are you hurt? What happened?"

"Garrison was under the protection of the Yakuza," Joe said. "They spent some . . . time with me, before I got the upper hand."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Joe," Steve said. He studied Joe, the broken fingers, the scar on his arm.

"Eh, kid, the scar is from a bar fight," he chuckled.

"But not the broken fingers," Steve said quietly.

"This is evidence," Joe said, holding up his gnarled fingers. "Evidence that Garrison sold out to WoFat and the Yakuza. WoFat wants Shelburne - wants your mother - and he wants Riley. He has to have realized by now that the SAD thought that Riley, what happened to Riley, could be duplicated. Weaponized. He wants his hands on that technology. Currently, Riley is the technology."

"He would sell her to the highest bidder," Steve whispered.

"He would trade her for Shelburne," Joe said. "He's insane, Steve, but he's also a genius. He wants revenge. He's insanely jealous of you and your sister. He wants power, and with the government so desperate to get their hands on Riley, he sees her as a pawn. And . . . he wants his mother, the only mother he ever knew."

"Our mom," Steve said. "Shit."

"So, it doesn't much matter to him how he hurts you, or in what order he gets what he wants," Joe said. "In fact, hurting you isn't just a means to an end, it's an end to itself. Punishment, for having the mother that he didn't. But most of that we knew. I'll give you some new intel."

Steve turned to him, intently curiously.

"We thought we were asking the Kkangpae to do us a favor, serving as protection for Riley," Joe said, shaking his head. "Turns out, they'd been a step ahead of us for years. There were rumors of an American woman, a journalist, who'd found herself on the wrong side of the Yakuza. That piqued the Kkangpae's interest."

"I'm not sure I follow," Steve said.

"The Kkangpae are violent, unorganized . . . they're barely a mob, more like a group of street thugs," Joe said.

"Yeah, they have splinter groups, rogue sets," Steve said. "They're chaotic, unpredictable. Any Kkangpae involvement creates a special hell trying to put together intel. There's no commonality among them."

"Ah, except for their intense hatred of the Yakuza," Joe said. "So much so, that any target of the Yakuza is, by default, potentially an object of their protection."

"Simply out of spite," Steve said. "So, Riley and our mom were already on their radar, even before you sent Riley to the University of Tokyo."

"The monks realized that their ability to protect Riley had limits," Joe said. "They don't use weapons, or modern technology . . . they realized she would be vulnerable to things - to people, to organizations - well beyond their control, their reach. The order has a long history of reaching tentative arrangements with members of the Kkangpae. For all their violence, the monks still see them as erstwhile protectors of innocents."

"Lesser of the evils," Steve said. "We had three bodies on the dock. We tried to retrieve them, got pinned down, took fire. But a great deal of the gunfire was aimed at the bodies - we suspected, later, to try to obliterate the tattoos."

"Both monastery and Kkangpae," Joe guessed.

"Riley recognized it," Steve said.

Joe nodded. "She would. Doris made flashcards. It was part of her elementary education."

"Riley's one of the hottest targets on the planet right now," Steve said, rubbing his hand over his face.

"That's why I took the opportunity, when it was presented to me, to throw my lot back in with the Navy and the CIA," Joe said. "I know you find the Special Activities Division reprehensible, son, and I don't blame you. But at the moment, the combined resources of the Navy and the CIA . . . the intel, the firepower, the manpower at our disposal - it's the best way I can think of to protect Riley."

"You're saying we should cooperate," Steve said dully. "With the SAD."

"Steve, there are two powerful factions that would take Riley and use her for their own gain: the Yakuza, under the insane whims of WoFat, and The Elders, under the unsanctioned goal of developing the next super soldier," Joe said. "Can you think of another organization powerful enough to even begin to protect her? Five-O?"

Steve looked at him sharply. "We've done a damn better job so far."

"So far is in the past," Joe said. "We have places, Steve, we have access to -"

"No," Steve said sharply. He was on his feet, standing over Joe, glaring down at him. "You're not taking her."

"Please keep your voice down," Joe said quietly, but it was too late.

Riley was standing in the door, trembling, a blanket clutched around her shoulders.

"Shit, honey, I'm sorry," Steve said. He went to her, wrapped his arms around her gently. "Joe was explaining . . . there's a great deal of risk for you, right now. He thought maybe this new Shelburne program, with him in charge, would be able to keep you safer. But I . . . I can't imagine not having you with me. With us, with Five-O."

He took her hand and nudged her into a chair, tucking the blanket around her.

"We're going to call it something else," she said. Her voice was clear. "Not the Shelburne project."

Joe nodded. "Fair enough."

"And I'll cooperate," she continued.

Steve started to protest, but she shook her head.

"Short of going to ground, how else - Steve, you can't single-handedly protect me, not and still run Five-O, still serve in the reserves . . . still be Mary's brother. We'd have to disappear. Completely. And I'm done running," she said. "Now, I assume that protection for everyone - Mary, the team, Jerry - that can be arranged, yes?"

Joe nodded again. "Already in place."

Riley looked at Steve and nodded. "Then it's settled. The others are almost here. Jerry can help pick a name for the project."

Joe blinked in surprise.

"He almost got killed trying to protect me from the Shelburne project," Riley said quietly. "You owe him helping choose the name, and a hell of a lot more."

Steve could hear the faintest sound of approaching vehicles and glanced at Riley. She glanced back at him.

"We should test it," she said. "How much more sensitive my hearing is than yours. How much more sensitive yours is than Danny's, say. Or Catherine's. Find out what's the altered DNA, what's just our shared DNA, what's training . . ."

Steve sighed.

"Steve. If I can't have a normal life, I'd at least like some answers," Riley said.

Steve hesitated. "We'll discuss it."

"Control freak. I don't need your permission," Riley said. She smiled at Steve fondly when his face fell. "But I want your approval. Here they come. I hope Jerry brought Hot Pockets."

Steve blinked at her rapid change of topic. For someone who had been incoherent with fever not too long ago, her mind was certainly agile at the moment. He watched her, standing at the porch railing and bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation of the arrival of their friends.

"The only easy day was yesterday," Joe said, grinning. "I think things are gonna get real interesting from here. That girl is going to keep us on our toes."

#*#*#*#*#

They gathered in the expansive living room, sipping coffee and tea, while Steve updated them.

"I don't like it," Danny said bluntly. "I don't like any of it, this cloak and dagger shit. And I don't trust you, Joe. Not yet."

"That's fair," Joe said. "I will do everything I can to earn the trust of each person in this room."

"Danny, I understand what you're saying, but . . . it isn't just Riley, or me - it's all of you. Your families," Steve said. "This is the only way I see to have a shot at keeping everyone safe. We simply don't have the resources we need, not without cooperating with the SAD."

"Excuse me, please," Rebecca said. She placed her cup on the coffee table with a trembling hand, and slipped out onto the porch.

Danny sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "I'll check on her," he said quietly. He turned to Joe and Steve, and gestured to Riley. "Rebecca was there, remember, the last time Riley . . . cooperated."

Chin watched Danny walk out the door. "Look, it's a lot to process," he said. "And tensions are going to run high. Steve, we appreciate your willingness to read us in - all of us - and we know that you and Riley have a lot of decisions to make. But we also came here today to celebrate Riley's recovery, and to enjoy our ohana, after a very close call."

"Yeah, and I'm starving," Kono said, "so I vote we break for food. Chin brought everything to make his amazing Pad Thai."

#*#*#*#*#

The air was cool and humid on the porch, and Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself. Her hair curled around her face in soft tendrils.

"Hey," Danny said, wrapping a hand around Rebecca's shoulder. "You okay?"

She shook her head. "No. No, I am not okay, Danny. I can't do this again, I can't watch them . . . they tortured her, Danny. Steve knows it, I described it to him and . . . I don't understand, how can they even consider cooperating with these people? Again? What the hell is he thinking?"

"He must be convinced that this is the best way to keep Riley safe," Danny said. "To keep all of us safe. And Riley . . . seems to want some answers. You can't blame her for that."

Rebecca shook her head and brushed tears from her eyes. Danny wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head against his shoulder.

"We'll talk to Steve and Riley, just the two of them, okay," he murmured.

"We?" she asked, her voice muffled against him.

"I'm not leaving you here, upset, to try to take care of Riley," Danny said. "I'm going to stay, at least for tonight, make sure you're okay with being here before I leave. I . . . look, I've learned to trust Steve's instincts, okay? I have to yell at him first - someone has to - but at the end of the day, no one tries to take care of his people more than Steve. So, I gotta think that once we get over the initial shock, we'll understand. But you - you're new to this, and you've witnessed firsthand things that we haven't. So I'm not leaving you here to feel outnumbered and overwhelmed by this."

"Thank you, Danny," Rebecca said. "I can't expect you to -"

"Sure you can," he said. "You can expect me to, Rebecca. You can trust me to be here for you."

"That would be a first," she mumbled, but she was smiling as she looked up at him. "Sorry, I've had very few guys offer, much less promise, even less follow through. I hate to be so cynical, and I know you mean well, Danny, but I'll believe it when I see it."

He brushed her hair away from her face and tidied the collar of her shirt. "So I get to prove it to you, then. I can work with that."

His hand stayed warm and steady on the small of her back as he bent to kiss her. He had intended to give her a chaste peck, with the entirety of the team just inside the door, but plans and intentions went out the window when she sighed softly and her lips parted beneath his.

"Hmm," she said, breathless, when he reluctantly pulled himself away. "I can with work that, too."

"Chin is working on dinner," Steve's voice came softly from the doorway.

"Fantastic," Rebecca said. She brushed at her eyes once more. "I'd like to take a few minutes to check on Riley. I'll go catch up with her."

Steve reached out and brushed his fingers on her wrist as she started to walk by.

"Rebecca," he said, "I know this must be hard for you to understand. We'll try to answer any questions you have. Thank you for coming to take care of her again."

"Just so you remember, that's why I'm here," Rebecca said. "And while I'm happy to do it, don't you dare entertain any notions that you can let people pick her apart and count on me to put her back together. I won't have it, Commander. I can stop and start your heart with chemicals and electricity. Don't think I won't find a way to protect her."

"Noted," Steve said.

Rebecca nodded firmly and squared her shoulders, then went inside in search of her patient.

"She's, um - wow," Steve said.

Danny blinked at her retreating form. "I am not embarrassed to say that I am incredibly turned on right now. And by the way, she is genuinely freaking out over this whole situation. I told her I would stay until you and Joe have put her mind at ease."

Steve nodded. "I understand, Danny, that's fine. Hey, she didn't actually bring . . . chemicals and electricity with her, did she? Danny?"

Steve followed Danny's laugh back inside. Rebecca found Riley, Jerry, and Charlie working on the bank of computers that had been set up on the previous visit.

"This is impressive," she said.

"Last time we were here, Catherine arranged for a secure satellite uplink," Riley explained. "It's still working great."

"Which means, we can try out that new release of our favorite game," Jerry said.

"Yes, and I can also try to catch up on the database work," Riley said. "I can't believe you killed my laptop."

"Steve told me to," Charlie said, smiling. "And I think you can take a couple days off work, Riley."

"I'm sure I'll agree," Rebecca said. Her practiced eye picked up on Riley's pallor, and the faint lines of pain and fatigue etched on her face. "In fact, if I can steal you away a few minutes before dinner . . ."

Riley glanced longingly at the computers.

"You're here to recover, Riley. This isn't going anywhere," Charlie said, gesturing toward the computers. His hand brushed against hers, and he wrapped her fingers in his for a moment, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. "Go catch Rebecca up on how you're feeling. Jerry and I will program the connection to the Five-O and HPD servers."

Riley nodded and reluctantly followed Rebecca down the hall, toward her room.

Jerry glanced at Charlie, then at Riley, and back again.

"I'm sure Steve will effectively threaten you with torture," Jerry said, "but let me just add: if you hurt her, every computer, every device you touch, will be plagued with a virus the likes of which this civilization has never known."

"Understood," Charlie said.

"Okay. Now, do you think she wants both machines connected to both servers, or more of a one-and-one kinda deal?" Jerry asked cheerfully.

#*#*#*#*#

The evening passed by all too quickly, and soon it was time for Chin, Kono, Jerry, and Charlie to leave. For a brief, obviously arranged moment, Charlie and Riley found themselves on the porch, the others either back inside or climbing into the SUV.

"Well, this isn't at all awkward," Charlie said, taking Riley's hand in his.

"I'm sorry," Riley said, shaking her head. "But - you do realize, right, that I was raised by a CIA fugitive, in relative isolation. And that was before I was sent to a monastery. Pretty sure awkward will be the operational default."

"If I didn't think it was worth it, I'd have backed off when you shot me," Charlie said. "I'm honored that your brother thought to invite me today. And I'm really, really glad that you're okay, Riley."

"I hope now we can get some answers, maybe find and shut down this new faction," Riley said. "Maybe something useful will -"

"Riley," Charlie murmured. "You're not a product, or a weapon. You are inherently valuable, for who you are. Not what you are, not what you can do. Don't lose sight of that, okay?"

She nodded, and he reached out and pulled her into a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

"When you're feeling better, and I've managed to survive the gauntlet of your brother and your best friend, I'm going to ask you out on an actual date," Charlie said, laughing.

Riley groaned. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even care, but -"

"You care because they do, and they care because you're pretty special, Riley McGarrett," Charlie said. "Rest. Get well. I'll be in touch."

She stood on the porch, watching as he bounded down the stairs and climbed into the SUV. Kono's teasing laughter drifted up to her, and she waved as they pulled away. Once they were out of sight, she staggered back and collapsed into a chair. In seconds, Steve was on the porch, Rebecca on his heels.

"Riley, honey, are you okay?" Steve asked, kneeling in front of him.

"You were totally snooping," Riley accused, her breath catching as she forced a smile.

Rebecca's fingers were cool on her wrist. "You're running a little hot and a little fast, Riley. What's happening? Anything hurt?"

"I think I just overdid it. I'm sort of achy, and I'm really, really tired," Riley admitted.

"You could have said something," Steve said.

"It came on kind of fast, I was fine and then, not so much," Riley said. "We were - as if you didn't know, you big nosey noser - having a bit of a moment. I wanted to enjoy my moment. They've been far and few between since I got clocked over the head in Tokyo."

"Okay, okay," Steve said. "What kind of moment are you having right now?"

"A kind of awful one," Riley said. She let herself slump forward into his arms.

He looked up at Rebecca. "What do you think we should do?"

"It was a virus - an exceptionally powerful one, true, but a virus," Rebecca said. "It's not at all unusual to have minor relapses of low-grade fever and viral symptoms after a case of influenza, or any other virus. More than likely, that's what's happening here. So, rest and fluids. We don't have much to offer for any virus, other than to treat the symptoms. Even the common cold."

Steve nodded and stood up slowly, pulling Riley to her feet. "Let's get you settled, then, Riley. Sound good?"

"Yeah," she said, yawning. She let Steve guide her into the house, and then she wandered toward her room, blinking sleepily. Rebecca chuckled and followed her.

"Steve, is she okay?" Catherine asked.

"Just wiped out, I hope," Steve said. "Maybe inviting everyone here wasn't a great idea -"

"It made her happy," Danny said. "She's been cooped up, sick - it made her happy, I could tell. So, Rebecca gets her settled, maybe she spends a couple days resting. Probably woulda ended up that way regardless. Speaking of wiped out - the three of you look like you've been pulled through a hedge backwards. I vote we all turn in early. I have a million questions about this new plan of yours, but they'll hold until you don't look like a quartet of zombies."

"You'll get no argument from me, on either count," Joe said. "See everyone in the morning."

"I have been looking forward to a bubble bath since I heard we were coming here," Catherine said. She kissed Steve on the cheek and headed down the hall behind Joe.

Steve sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, running his fingers over the smooth worn surface. Danny poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of him.

"Thanks, Danno," Steve said. "I'm sorry we upset Rebecca."

Danny nodded, pressing his lips together as he contemplated his response. "It's unsettling, you understand that, Steve. For all of us, but . . . I was with her, when you called from the medical facility, while Riley was sick and . . . you couldn't see her, Steve, but Rebecca was really shaken up. Just repeating to you what she had witnessed, what she got caught up in, while she was part of the project the last time. I think we may have overlooked, underestimated . . . there's a lot of guilt, a lot of trauma, from that experience."

Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Shit, Danny . . . Rebecca probably has PTSD from - shit. I'm sorry, Danny, I should have -"

"Hold up, Super SEAL, you aren't literally responsible for every single person in your radius," Danny said. "I'm just saying, you and Joe - cut her some slack, keep in mind where she's coming from."

"We will, Danny," Steve said, nodding earnestly. "She did everything she could to help Riley, and we seriously wouldn't have made it out of that bunker without her. There's no way I'm going to forget that. And Danny - make sure she understands that we know she was an unwilling participant - that she risked her life to help us. We don't hold her responsible, not for any of it. She was as much a victim as Riley was."

"She might need to hear that from you, Steve," Danny said.

They heard Riley's door open and close, and Rebecca slipped quietly down the hall toward them.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked.

"A little feverish, a little achy," Rebecca said. "A lot exhausted. All in all, a perfectly natural response to having been seriously ill with a potentially deadly virus. I'm surprised she's not in much worse shape. And you, Commander? You and Lieutenant Rollins appear to be exhausted."

"We're worn a little thin," Steve said. "Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

"And Commander White?" Rebecca asked, her voice low. "He's at least twelve pounds underweight, and those fingers were recently broken and poorly set - if at all."

"He had a couple run-ins with the Yakuza," Steve said. Rebecca said nothing, but Steve got the impression that she might have thought he got off easier than he deserved.

"Well, Riley should rest comfortably tonight," Rebecca said. "I gave her something for the fever and the discomfort. Oh - she wanted me to make sure I let you know, she has her white noise machine plugged in and turned on full volume."

Steve chuckled. "Very kind of her, but I think the most she'd hear out of me and Catherine tonight would be snoring." He stopped and grinned mischievously at Danny and Rebecca. "Although, given that there's only one available bedroom left, and Danny has decided to stay . . . maybe it wasn't for my benefit that she mentioned the white noise machine."

Steve laughed at the wide-eyed expressions on Danny and Rebecca's faces as he shuffled tiredly down the hall.

"So, um," Danny said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "You take the bedroom, obviously. There's a sofa in the study, I'll sleep there."

"I'm sure there are extra linens in my bedroom," Rebecca said. "Let's check."

Danny followed her into her room, lingering near the doorway as she checked the closet. She emerged with a soft blanket, and grabbed one of the pillows from her bed.

"Here," she said, holding the offerings toward Danny. "I'm sorry, I should offer - to share, if -"

"Nah, babe," Danny said, his blue eyes crinkling in a smile. "I would definitely feel obligated to be a gentleman. And I don't think I can share a bed with you and be a gentleman. So, I'll wait for the right time and place."

"Well, now I'm curious about when and where that will be," Rebecca said.

Danny's fingers brushed over hers as he took the pillow and blanket. "Me too."

#*#*#*#*#


	45. Lesser of the Evils 2

Catherine was sitting in bed, her damp hair piled on her head in a messy bun, reading. Steve smiled as he slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Did you get everyone settled?" she asked, smiling back at him.

"I think so . . . " Steve sighed. "Rebecca is really shaken up. I should have thought about what all of this - she's a civilian, Catherine, she was recruited by the CIA but she's a nurse, not an agent, not a SEAL, not intelligence."

"She should probably see someone," Catherine said, nodding. "Did you ever get Riley set up with the doctor I recommended, the one at Pearl?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "No. We meant to but . . . shit. Everyone who comes into my orbit seems to need professional care after, Catherine."

"It's not on you, Steve, it's on WoFat," Catherine said firmly. "Take a long, hot shower, and get some sleep. I bet everything will seem better in the morning. Come on, you have to be exhausted."

He nodded mournfully. "And Riley has a white noise machine and everything . . . " he mumbled, as he headed into the bathroom.

"I'll take a raincheck, sailor," Catherine said, laughing. She put away her book and turned all the lights in the room off, except the soft lamp on his bedside table.

He came out of the bathroom yawning and rubbing his hair dry with a small towel, a pair of worn gym shorts slung low on his hips. He tossed the towel behind him onto the bathroom counter and slid, groaning gratefully, into the bed, flicking off the light.

Catherine could sense him staring into the dark room, tension still radiating from his body. She slid next to him and nestled her head on his shoulder, his arm going around her to pull her close.

"You're not going to figure it out tonight, Steve," she said. Her fingers trailed up his cheek and then rubbed gently at the little furrow of concentration she knew she'd find on his forehead. "Get some rest."

He sighed and closed his eyes, submitting to her gentle touch.

#*#*#*#*#

Riley woke up early. Very early, if the dim light was any indication, and the fact that there was no sound in the rest of the house. She fumbled through her bathroom routine, joints stiff and muscles uncooperative. Rummaging through a small suitcase that had been placed in her room, she was pleased to find soft, comfortable clothes. Within moments, she had dressed and slipped out the back door.

She made her way carefully, almost painfully, down the steep slope at the back of the house and to the level clearing below. The grass was still soaked with heavy dew, but a rock had already almost dried in the gentle breeze and earliest light, so she settled there, closing her eyes and resting her upturned palms on her knees. Within moments, she was able to ignore the discomfort in her stiff joints as she steadied her breathing.

Inside the house, Catherine stirred sleepily as Steve slipped out of the bed. He had been wide awake in a split second when he heard Riley's door open, and when he heard the back door open and close, had decided to go investigate.

"Sleep," he whispered, bending over and pressing a kiss to Catherine's forehead. "It's very early. Just checking on Riley."

He looked out the back window of the house and saw her, sitting motionless on the flat rocky outcropping, and decided there was plenty of time to brew some tea. He smiled to himself as he turned on the kettle, remembering their hike with Danny, when she'd said that Frank had taught her some anger management practices. He thought of his own temper as a young teenager, and wondered if she'd been a similar handful of restless energy and boundless sarcasm. Their mother had conveniently avoided some of the most challenging years of their upbringing.

The gentle whistle of the kettle interrupted his thoughts, and he grabbed it off the burner quickly, not wanting to wake the others.

The back porch of the house was narrower than the front, and smaller, but there were two simple chairs. Steve ignored them for the moment and leaned on the porch railing, his tea steaming next to his elbow. He watched, fascinated, as Riley stood - carefully, stiffly, revealing just how much of a toll the deadly virus had taken on her body - and started reaching and stretching through a series of movements. It looked vaguely similar to what he would have recognized as a _kata_ in most martial arts, but he couldn't place it. He tilted his head, watching. He'd eliminated Tai Chi and Taekwondo as options by the time he felt Joe at his elbow.

"Your work?" Steve asked softly, knowing that Riley could likely hear him anyway.

Joe grinned and shook his head. "The monks. She's moving through a _hyeong_. Hapkido."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he looked at Joe. "No shit?" he murmured. "I thought she was trained in aikido."

Joe turned and faced the house, shaking his head again. "She was," he said softly. "Before she even got to the monastery. I think she prefers the hapkido now."

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together. Their mother, of course, had trained Riley in aikido. Joe had mentioned it before. But now, as Riley was trying to recover, regain her strength . . . she turned to what she'd learned later, in a remote monastery on the side of a mountain in North Korea - not to her childhood training.

Joe reached out and squeezed Steve's shoulder, gently. "You should join her. Good for mobility, you know, as you get older."

Steve snorted, but handed Joe his tea cup and made his way down the stairs and across the grass. He assumed Riley could hear him approach, but still - if she was concentrating . . .

"Hey, kiddo," he called out softly as he approached.

"Hi," she said, wincing as a movement twinged the tender muscles in her back.

"Joe says this is a hyeong," Steve said. "The monks taught you hapkido?"

She stopped, stretching one arm with the other. "Yeah. Aikido really needs two people. There aren't forms for one person. It's a practice that assumes you have a sparring partner. Joe's right, I prefer the hapkido. The kicks are lower, too, more" - she gestured with her arm - "sweeping."

"So, better if your opponent has a height or weight advantage," Steve said.

"Yes. The monks actually thought about that," she said, a trace of bitterness edging into her voice.

"Hey, come'ere," Steve said, reaching out and pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry. She should have thought of a lot of things that she didn't."

"It's okay," Riley said, but he could feel the tension in her muscles. "I'm just . . . I feel all weird, like I don't fit in my own body right now. I thought it would help . . ."

"Did it?" Steve asked.

She shrugged and he released her gently, making sure she had solid footing on the soft grass.

"Take your time, don't overdo it," he cautioned. "But seems to me, this is a good way to build your strength back up. And Riley - when you're ready? I can hold my own with aikido. I'll practice with you."

"Yeah?" she said, smiling up at him. "Okay. Or we could just . . . you know. Go for it, sparring. No rules."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"When I'm better," she clarified. "I want to see. I want to see what my limits are. I could hear you and Joe talking, up there. I know that's not normal." She turned and looked out over the dense forest stretching out below them. "I don't think I can see further, though . . . but we could check. If my vision is enhance, you could train me as a sniper -"

"Riley," he said, more sharply than he'd intended. God, that was the last thing he wanted for his baby sister, a life as a sniper . . . if the SAD got their hooks into her, he might never see her again . . . he rubbed a hand over his face.

"Riley," he tried again, more gently this time. "It's . . . that's not a life I'd wish for anyone."

"Kono can handle a sniper rifle," Riley said. "I know. I've seen reports, working on the database."

"Kono can indeed handle a sniper rifle," Steve replied. "She's good, damn good. But she works for Five-O, for me. No other group is going to try to take her and . . . I just don't think it's safe for you."

She looked disappointed, and he cast around frantically in his mind for a compromise.

"Flight simulator," he blurted. He paused, double-checked his logic . . . sure, why not. "I think your reflexes are exceptional, and you said you liked flying Tangerine with Frank, right?"

"Yeah, it was great," she said.

"Okay, so I bet we can get the Navy's best training program loaded onto that computer," he said, gesturing toward the house, "and you and I can log some simulator time while you recover."

"Really?"

"Even Danny would approve," Steve said.

Riley smiled. "Danny . . . " she said, laughing. "What does Danny do? Hapkido would work well for him."

"It would," Steve laughed. "You should offer to teach him. Danny . . . we actually spar together in jiu jitsu, but . . . I think they teach street brawling in Jersey. He fights dirty. It's awesome."

"Close quarter combat training," Riley murmured. "They teach that in Jersey, or is that just a Joe thing?"

Steve sighed.

"I tried, you know? When I was with Joe, when he took me from the house, to try to set it up to look like your father was Shelburne, and WoFat's thugs came after us . . . I thought, between me and Joe - but he kept shoving me behind him. Stupid. And then once they took him out . . . they said they'd leave him alive, if I cooperated," she said quietly.

Steve reached out and took her hand in his.

"I didn't believe them," she continued. "I was afraid they'd kill him anyway. So, I kept fighting, until . . . I don't know, it got fuzzy there at the end."

"There were only two left standing," Steve said. "And from what we could tell, it took the two of them to drag you into the van. You probably did save Joe's life, Riley, by sheer stubbornness."

"He picked a damn stupid time to try to protect me," she said, shaking her head. "We might have been able to take them, the two of us. You think he'll try again?"

"Joe?" Steve asked.

"No. WoFat."

"Yeah," Steve said reluctantly. "Yeah, I think WoFat and the Yakuza are going to try again. And I think this new faction, The Elders, are going to try. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Riley."

She laughed until he was insulted.

"What?" he demanded. "You think I can't protect you?"

"I mean . . . so far . . ." she dissolved into a fit of honest-to-goodness giggles.

Steve stared at her, dumbfounded, until he felt the corners of his mouth twitch in spite of himself. He shook his head and chuckled.

"Okay, point taken," he said. "But I will do everything in my power to protect you, Riley."

She was silent for a moment.

"Within limits, within reason," she said, finally. "Not . . . not if it risks anyone else's safety. Yours, Mary's, the team . . . I mean it, Steve. You don't - I don't want you to choose me, if a choice needs to be made."

He felt a chill go up his spine, and the wind moving through the trees suddenly sounded ominous and unfriendly.

"Riley, I - you can't -"

"Yeah, I can," she said, smiling at him. She gestured toward the house. "Of all of them, I'm the one that was trained to get it, right? To get making the impossible choice. And I'm telling you, choose any one of them over me, every time. You think - do you think I would want to live if I knew it was at the expense of any of them?"

He reached out and snagged her in a hug, pulling her close to him and cradling her head in the crook of his neck.

"I know," he murmured. "I know, kid. Sorry, I know you're not -"

"No, I like it," she said. "It's . . . you would have called me that. If . . . if things had been different."

"Yeah, I probably would have," he said.

"After all," she said, pulling back and smirking at him, her lopsided grin a mirror image of his own. "You're technically old enough to -"

"Okay, that's it," he said, pointing at her and trying to look stern, while she laughed.

It was, he decided, a sound he wanted to hear a lot more often.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny stretched and winced. The sofa was, arguably, more comfortable than Steve's - but that wasn't saying much. He stumbled to the hallway bathroom and made himself presentable, then went in search of coffee.

Rebecca was in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot.

"Oh, God bless you," Danny said fervently.

She jumped, completely startled at the sound of his voice. Coffee grounds spilled across the counter.

"Hey, hey - whoa," he said, crossing the kitchen quickly. "I'm sorry, Becca, geez, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," she said, forcing a shaky laugh. She turned away from him and grabbed a cloth to wipe up the mess, but he wasn't buying it.

"Rebecca," he murmured. "Come'ere." He put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped again, then buried her face in her shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

His arms wrapped around her, one hand stroking gently over her still messy curls.

"I think you probably do," he said. "Do you need me to take you home, Rebecca?"

"No. No, I'll be fine," she insisted. "I'm here to take care of Riley, I just -"

Danny steered her to the table and they sat down. He covered her hands with his and smiled at her.

"It's not my first rodeo, Rebecca," he said. "Now, the McGarrett clan, it's hardwired into their DNA to deny having any feelings. They're fine, they're always fine."

Rebecca chuckled.

"I don't know how your family handled things. But the Williams," Danny said, grinning, "you see, the Williams, they talk. They talk - well, about everything, all the things, obviously - but also about feelings. And experiences. So, this, this here, you gotta talk about it. That's just how it works, you hang around me. Unless you don't want to hang around me."

"I like hanging around you just fine, Danny," she said.

"Well, that is good to know," Danny said. "So, I'm gonna make us a pot of coffee, and you're gonna tell me if you got any sleep last night."

Rebecca sighed as Danny easily cleaned up the spilled coffee and set up the coffee pot.

"Not much," she admitted quietly.

Danny nodded and pulled two mugs out of the cabinet. He placed them next to the coffee maker, and turned to face Rebecca.

"You have trouble getting to sleep, or staying asleep?" he asked.

She thought about that for a moment. "Um . . . yes," she said.

"You coulda let me know," Danny said.

"What, so you could hold my hand until I fell asleep, chase the monsters away?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," Danny said. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Becca, you think you're alone in this? What you went through, in that bunker, in getting Riley and Steve out, and to safety, that was harrowing. Your life was in danger. Their lives were in danger. There's no one who would fault you for struggling with that."

"Danny, you don't understand, I - I was an active participant, I -" Rebecca stopped short, pressing her hand against her mouth.

The back door opened and Riley rushed into the kitchen, Steve entering more slowly behind her.

"No!" she said, her long stride carrying her straight to Rebecca. She stood in front of her, fists clenched. "No, you were - you told me to hang on. I remember. I remember your eyes, over your mask. Your eyes were kind, and you told me to hang on, as long as I could. I remember your voice, when Steve found me. You led us out of the bunker and you . . . you saved our lives, Rebecca. Nothing, none of it was your fault. I thought - I thought she was going to kill you. Or send someone in to kill you. You wouldn't give me that shot, that last one, that -"

"That drug to force you into consciousness, that allowed you to experience unthinkable pain," Rebecca said. "No, but I was part of the program that did, and someone else simply came behind me, and -"

"Someone else," Riley said. "Not you. And you stayed with us, after, until I was better and - I'll never be able to thank you. But if being here, if being around me is a reminder - Steve, you can get her set up, wherever she wants, right? You could do that. The Navy owes her that, we owe her that, she -"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Of course."

"I'm fine. I'm sorry, it's too much, no one should have asked you to be here, it's too much to ask," Riley said. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were feverishly bright.

Rebecca stood up and pressed her hand against Riley's cheek.

"No, it's not too much," she said softly. "In fact . . . maybe it's exactly what I needed, to face some of . . . Riley, I am so, so terribly sorry for what you've been through, and for my part in it. It . . . it means the world to me that what you remember is that, once I realized what was happening, I did what little I could."

"You did everything you could," Steve said. "None of us ever doubted that . . . but I've been remiss in addressing what it cost you. Rebecca, I know you probably have access to good care at Tripler, but . . . the Navy has people who specialize in PTSD, in combat trauma -"

"Combat, no, that's -" Rebecca started to protest.

"Yeah, it's exactly that," Steve said. "Whatever you need, Rebecca. If you're more comfortable asking Catherine . . . whatever you need, whenever you need it. No questions asked, no expense spared. I mean it."

Rebecca put her hands over her face. "I'm supposed to be here to care for Riley, she's recovering -"

Steve put a hand on her shoulder.

"I think we all are, Rebecca," he said quietly. He looked at Danny. "There was a time in my life that it never would have crossed my mind that I needed time and space to recover. But my family, my ohana, is teaching me that I do, and that it's okay. And this place . . . "

Riley beamed. The mountain house was, technically, hers. "This place is special, and it's for recovering," she said. "And also, Steve is going to teach me to use a flight simulator, you want to try it too?"

Rebecca laughed and shook her head. "Okay, slow down there, speed racer. You look like you may have already overdone it a bit today. Let's go get you checked out, and then I need a nice shower and a few moments to pull myself together from an embarrassing display of . . . well, whatever this has been. We'll talk about the suitability of flight, simulated or otherwise, once you don't look so feverish." She arched a brow at Steve as she ushered a reluctant Riley toward the hall.

"Flight simulator," Danny said, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

"She wanted to discuss training as a sniper," Steve said, folding into a kitchen chair. "So I came up with a compromise. Rebecca - you think she's okay, Danny?"

"I think she will be," Danny said. He looked around the simple, streamlined kitchen. It felt as if they were a world away from Honolulu. "I agree, this place is special . . . and if you think we could have a day - a day, Steven, which is not too much to ask - for everyone to just chill the hell out, just breathe again, maybe it will be a start."

"But Danny, WoFat and -"

"A day, Steven," Danny said, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "A damn day. It's called R&R. It's a big deal in the Army, I'm sure you've heard of it."

"The Navy, Danny, the Navy . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Danny, as it turned out, could be very persuasive. He started with pancakes.

"Well, sure, now that you've filled us with processed sugar and refined carbohydrates, we are too tired to make any progress on . . ." Steve said, yawning.

"Progress on what, exactly?" Danny demanded. He gestured around the spacious home. "Aside from Riley's get-up, there, in case you haven't noticed - this isn't Five-O. Or Pearl-Hickam. This is a place - as we've already established - for rest and relaxation. And recovery, for those recently ill, injured, and exhausted." He pointed at everyone in turn - Riley, Joe, Steve and Catherine, and Rebecca.

"And you?" Catherine said, smiling at him fondly.

"I - I am the voice of reason," Danny said. "And now, I reason that the skillet can soak, and we can adjourn to the living room. I can't believe Riley's never experienced the marvel that is Die Hard."

"Wildly inaccurate, the physics simply don't -" Steve started to complain.

"It's not watched for accuracy," Danny said. "It's mindless entertainment."

"Truly," Catherine agreed, raising an eyebrow.

"I love the Die Hard series," Rebecca said happily, pouring herself another generous cup of coffee. "And Riley definitely needs to rest. I think a movie marathon is just the ticket."

Joe stood up abruptly and stalked out the back door.

"Go ahead, start the movie," Steve said quietly. "Let me talk to him. This is . . . I'm not disagreeing, Danny, that we all need a break. But Joe and I are . . . well, it's difficult to take a civilian approach to the situation, that's all."

Steve caught up with Joe at the bottom of the stairs. He was pacing back and forth in the grass, the sky rumbling with thunder overhead.

"Joe, look, I know this is -" Steve started.

"She's wearing fuzzy socks," Joe said abruptly.

Steve gaped at him a moment.

"Riley. She's wearing those -" Joe gestured toward his feet. "Those fluffy, fuzzy socks, like I've seen Catherine wear when she's off duty. And pajama pants, with . . . with little ducks on them."

"Kono packed a bag for her," Steve said quietly.

"She looks . . . like a young college student. Like she should. Like she always should have . . ." Joe trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face. "I look at her and . . . I see your mother. I see - oh, hell. I think maybe I just see what I want to see."

"Joe . . . " Steve said.

"Did you test it? The DNA? My DNA?" Joe demanded.

Steve shook his head. "We haven't."

"Damn. If you do, now . . . if it comes back - I'll never be able to justify staying in charge of the program, you know that, right?" Joe asked. He started pacing again. "They'll say there's no objectivity, that I'm too close, that there's a conflict of interest."

Steve folded his arms over his chest and waited Joe out.

"You can't check now," Joe said, finally, stopping and staring out over the trees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever introduced the doubt . . . I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have . . . I'm sorry. I wanted - I want -"

"You would want the DNA to say that you're her father," Steve said softly.

"You're full siblings, Steve," Joe said, still not looking at him. "That much we know. Not just Riley's father, I want . . . " He stopped, shook his head again. "Just as well. She'll likely never forgive me as it is . . . you either, I expect."

"Joe, look -" Steve started.

"You saw, Steve, you saw the evidence of what I did to her," Joe said bitterly. "For God and country, or so I was told."

"She doesn't hold it against you, Joe," Steve said. "And I . . . I don't, not anymore. Just . . . we can just let it go, Joe. What's done is done. We go from here."

"Well, and if that's not an argument for John McGarrett's DNA, I don't know what is," Joe said. "Go on, go back and . . . let them think I'm out here plotting military strategy, though, yeah? Give an old man his dignity?"

"Joe, so help me if you bail out on her now," Steve said, his voice low in warning.

"I just need a minute, Steve," Joe said. "Please."

Steve reluctantly went back inside, as thunder rumbled more ominously overhead. Danny and Rebecca had claimed a loveseat, while Catherine and Riley were each curled into a corner of the sofa.

"There's a storm," Riley said. She looked up at him, her cheeks pale now, and she twisted a light blanket in her hands.

"Yeah, it's brewing up a little weather," Steve said. The opening credits started to flash across the screen.

"Where's Joe?" Riley asked.

Steve sat down between them, wrapping an arm around Catherine and reaching out to squeeze Riley's hand. "He'll be inside in a few minutes."

Riley nodded and pretended to watch the movie, but Steve could see her stealing glances toward the back of the house. Just as the first heavy drops of rain began to hit the roof, the back door opened and closed, and Joe slipped in. He stood awkwardly in the space between the dining room and living room.

"You haven't missed too much," Riley said. She slid closer to Steve and patted the sofa cushion next to her.

Joe glanced at Steve and then went and sat down next to Riley. She took his hand in hers, tracing gently over his gnarled fingers.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," she whispered. She didn't let go of his hand.


	46. Endings and Beginnings

They had loaded the last of the gear, and Riley stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking somewhat wistfully back up at the house. Steve waited for her patiently by the Jeep.

"We'll be back soon," he promised, as she finally turned and walked toward him.

"Catherine and Joe made it back to Pearl okay?" she asked, as they climbed inside.

Steve turned the ignition as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Yeah, they're setting up an intel unit, tasked with identifying and locating these people, these so-called 'elders'," he said. "We'll root them out, Riley, it's what we do. This is the beginning of a whole new life for you, Riley, I promise. You're safe now. These people aren't going to touch you, and we're going to find them, and put a stop to all of this. And we'll get the best, the very best scientists and doctors . . . you're going to have the life you deserve."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I never thought . . . I can't believe I have a family."

"Ohana. Believe it. All of us - me and Mary, of course, but the whole team. And your friend Jerry, and Rebecca . . ."

Riley smiled. "She's been invited to Danny's for the weekend. Gracie is with her mom."

"That's - oh. Well, that's _very_ nice," Steve said, grinning back at her.

Riley fidgeted with her phone for a while, turning to Steve as if she was going to say something, and then turning back. He let her squirm for a bit before sighing and rubbing a hand over his face.

"I know about your date with Charlie," he said, finally.

She looked at him in surprise, then suspicion.

"He asked me," Steve said quickly. "He asked me if he could take you out."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She wasn't sure how to feel. Insulted? Protected? Frustrated?

"Riley," Steve laughed. "Come on. Charlie's in a bit of a rough spot."

"You are very intimidating," Riley said.

"Me? Are you shitting me? Okay, I'm a bit of an overprotective big brother -"

"No, really?"

"But to be honest, I think he's more than a little intimidated by you," Steve continued. He smiled at her fondly.

"Because I'm a science experiment," Riley mumbled.

"No. Because you're strong, and smart, and beautiful, you got that? Don't forget that, Riley, don't ever doubt yourself," Steve said. He nodded firmly at Riley, making sure she let his words sink in. He waited until she smiled and nodded back at him.

"And the baby sister of a badass Navy SEAL, and don't you forget that, either."

#*#*#*#*#

A/N: This is the end, for now! There may be a sequel, in the future. Thank you so much for all of the support and enthusiasm for this story.

A McDanno version of this same story may be in the works, as well. We'll see where the muse takes me next.


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